THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


LIFE  AND  P 


A.  L.  P.  GREEN",  D.D. 


BY  THE  REV.  WM.  M.  GREEN. 


EDITED  BY  T.  O.  SUMMERS,  D.D. 


NASHVILLE,  TENN.: 

SOUTHERN  METHODIST  PUBLISHING  HOUSE. 
1877. 


RESOLUTION  OF  THE  TENNESSEE  CONFERENCE, 


FAYETTEVII.LE,  TENN.,  GOT.  11,  1875. 

RESOLVED,  That  the  Rev.  W.  M.  GREEN  be  requested  by  the 
Tennessee  Annual  Conference  to  write  the  Biography  of  his 
honored  and  sainted  father,  the  Rev.  A.  L.  P.  GREEN,  D.D. 

JAMES  R.  PI-UMMER, 
GREEN  P.  JACKSON, 
R.  A.  YOUNG. 


"DUCITUR  HONORI  TIBI." 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1877,  by 

T.  I).  FITE  AND  P.  W.  GREEN, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


TO  MY  MOTHEK, 

MRS.  M.  A.  E.  GREEN, 

WHO    WAS    INDEED    A 

HELPMATE  TO  MY  FATHER, 

THESE    PAGES 

Are  Lovingly  Inscribed. 


550067 


CONTENTS. 


LIFE  OF  DR.  GREEN. 

PART  PAGE 

1.  THE  COVEKANT 1 

2.  ADVICE 4 

3.  FORECASTING 7 

4.  GENESIS 11 

5.  GEORGE  GREEN— SOLDIER  AND  CHRISTIAN 14 

6.  THE  BOY  ALEXANDER 18 

7.  SCHOOL-BOY 22 

8.  KELIGIOUS  BOY  AND  INTERPRETER '..  25 

9.  THE  JOURNAL — EXHORTER 29 

10.  FIRST  APPOINTMENT 33 

11.  JACKSON  CIRCUIT 37 

12.  JACKSON  CIRCUIT 41 

13.  ADVENTURES  AND  OTHER  MATTERS 46 

14.  LABORS  AND  SICKNESS 51 

15.  MEETINGS  AND  INCIDENTS 58 

16.  CAMP-MEETINGS  AND  SO-J-ORTH 63 

17.  MADISON  AND  LIMESTONE  CIRCUITS 70 

18.  LETTERS,  SICKNESS,  AND  CAMP-MEETINGS 77 

19.  SECOND  YEAR  ON  THE  LIMESTONE  CIRCUIT 85 

20.  THE  MADISON— His  LAST  CIRCUIT "89 

Cv) 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PART  [>\r,y. 

21.  NASHVII.I.I    STATION — GARRETT  AND  GWIN '.»;> 

22.  NASHVII.I  i:  STATION — Hisiior  MCKKNDREK 98 

23.  THK  SKCOMI  YKAR  IN  NASHVII.I.K 102 

24.  His  MARRIAGE  AND  His  HOMES 107 

26.  FRANKLIN  STATION — MEDICINE  AND  GENERAL  CONFER- 
ENCE   112 

26.  REVIEW  OF  THE  LAST  CHAPTER — NASHVILLE  STATION..  116 

27.  CUMBERLAND  DISTRICT — BISHOP  MCKENDREK 122 

28.  NASHVILLE  AGAIN— His  PREACHER  ASSOCIATES 134 

29.  NASHVILLE  STATION — CANADA  QUESTION 140 

30.  INCIDENTALS  ON  THE  DISTRICT 145 

31.  HISTORIA  SACRA 149 

32.  DOCTOR  OF  DIVINITY 153 

33.  THE  CHURCH  SUITS 157 

34.  SLAVERY  AND  DR.  GREEN 165 

35.  CAMP-MEETING  INCIDENTS 169 

36.  DR.  GREEN  AND  CHILDREN 174 

37.  PHILANTHROPY  AND  OTHER  MATTERS 179 

38.  THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLING 189 

39.  LITERARY — WHAT  THE  BRETHREN  SAY 201 

40.  THE  COMMANDER 207 

41.  THE  GREEN  MEMORIAL 215 

42.  HOME,  HUMOR,  AND  BUSINESS 223 

43.  DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  WAR 231 

44.  SOME  OF  THE  BEATITUDES 235 

45.  DR.  GREEN — PUBLISHING  INTERESTS 240 

46.  OUR  MOSAIC 244 

47.  DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  SCHOOLS....  255 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

PART  PAGE 

48.  LAST  CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS 265 

49.  His  DEATH  AND  BURIAL 270 

60.  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  BRETHREN...  276 


DR.  GREEN'S  PAPERS. 

STORIES 285 

Donor  and  the  Ditcher 285 

The  Alpine  Hunter 315 

Burning  of  the  Tall abusha 333 

An  Arkansas  Story 341 

An  Indian  Legend 350 

A  Western  Story 358 

A  Stranger's  Grave 365 

A  Tornado 368 

The  Twins  and  their  Angels 372 

Lolla's  Laugh 383 

NOTES  OF  TRAVEL 390 

A  Live  Tennesseean  Abroad 390 

LETTERS ; 448 

Country-meeting  Experiences 448 

A  Visit  to  Baltimore -. 457 

Mr.  Dixon 404 

Hurricane  Springs 469 

Memphis  Conference 473 

Hot  Springs,  Arkansas 477 

Bishops'  Meeting  in  St.  Louis 487 

The  Church  Interests...,  ..  491 


Vlll  CONTENTS, 

Pv.r. 
Conferonoe  and  Missions 493 

The  Church,  North  ami  South 500 

Manly's  Camp -meeting 510 

Camp-meeting  at  Cedar  Hill 524 

North  Alabama  Conference 527 

ANECDOTES 531 

Minor  and  the  Hog 531 

The  Piney-woods  Broker 533 

The  Gin-house  Man 535 

The  Dutchman  Adam 536 

Jim  and  his  Master 537 

FISHING 639 

Fins  and  Scales — A  Lecture 539 

Treasures  of  Big  Bottom 542 

On  Buffalo  Creek 551 

MISCELLANY 557 

Family  Government 557 

Superstition 559 

Bishop  Soule 562 

The  Pulpit 567 

Old  Benhadad 570 

The  Memoser 575 

POETRY 584 

The  Rev.  S.  D.  Baldwin,  D.D 584 

The  Rev.  Elisha  Carr 588 

The  Rev.  G.  W.  D.  Harris,  D.D 589 

Loneliness 590 

Lines  on  Lerissa  Hughes 591 


LIFE  AND  PAPERS  OF  DR.  GREEN. 


THE  COVENANT. 

WILL  attempt  to  utilize  this  introduc- 
tion :  it  shall  be  a  covenant  between  the 
reader  and  the  author. 

First:  I  will  make  known — which  will 
be  comforting  —  that  my  chapters  will  be  short. 
This  resolve  is  made  up  from  the  deposit  of  sober 
experience.  I  have  read  books  and  longed  for  the 
ends  of  the  chapters.  A  short  chapter,  like  a  short 
dress,  has  a  pleasant,  tidy  look.  I  have  observed 
an  expression  of  hearty  satisfaction  on  the  faces  of 
the  audience  as  the  last  page  of  the  obese  manu- 
script trembled  in  the  fingers  of  the  wonderful  ora- 
tor from  abroad.  The  friends  whom  I  love  to  meet 
on  the  street  are  those  from  whom  I  can  easily  pull 
away.  To  afford  the  reader  certain  pleasure,  in  the 
absence  of  other  refreshments,  I  will  multiply  the 
chapter  endings.  However,  I  must  reserve  the  priv- 
ilege of  extending  a  chapter  when  it  refuses  to  end. 
To  stop  with  a  jerk  is  just  as  disastrous  to  a  writer 

0) 


_  THE    COVENANT. 

as  to  a  rider.  Indeed,  there  is  some  affinity  between 
horses  and  books,  in  that  they  are  both  given  to 
tricks.  Many  a  poor  preacher,  meaning  mischief  to 
no  one,  has  been  censured  for  preaching  ninety 
minnU's,  when  he  was  doing  his  level  best  for  fifty 
minutes  to  stop.  We  will  not  allow  a  chapter,  after 
the  end  falls  due,  more  than  three  pages  of  grace. 

Second:  As  I  never  think  of  myself  in  the  plural 
number,  I  must  be  allowed  to  use  the  singular  ;  this 
is  not  vanity,  but  bravery.  The  first  person  plural 
may  shift  or  divide  responsibility;  the  first  person 
singular  can  do  neither.  I  must  also  enter  a  reserve 
at  this  point.  I  will  use  we,  when  a  plurality  of 
interests  and  logical  symmetry  demand  it.  I  and 
we  may  meet  occasionally  in  the  same  sentence. 

Third:  I  must  be  allowed  to  ignore,  as  far  as 
space  will  allow,  initials — except  as  to  given-names. 
The  general  run  of  authors  are  stingy  in  distribut- 
ing immortality;  they  argue  that  an  obscure  man 
might  be  intoxicated  with  importance  by  seeing  his 
undisguised  name  set  up  in  a  book — if  a  business 
man,  it  might  affect  his  usefulness.  Some  man, 
good  at  enigmas,  might  guess  that  J.  W.  stands  for 
John  Wesley;  it  can  stand  just  as  well  for  James 
Wright;  and,  really,  it  is  the  name  of  neither.  We  do 
not  refer  to  John  Milton  and  William  Shakespeare 
as  J.  M.  and  W.  S.  If  a  man  be  obscure,  why  in- 
tensify it  by  the  use  of  initials  that  may  stand  for 
a  full  score  of  names  in  the  census  report  of  a 
county  town  ?  No :  if  I  have  any  spring  of  renown, 
I  invite  my  friends  by  name  to  come  and  drink. 

I  must  express  my  gratitude  to  a  host  of  friends 


THE   COVENANT.  6 

who  have  furnished  me  with  valuable  matter.  The 
major  portion  of  these  communications  have  been 
carefully  dissected — have  passed  through  the  pulp 
state  and  under  the  roller;  this  was  to  make  them 
lit,  and  to  make  them  true.  If  the  reader  does  not 
recognize  his  or  her  letter  in  these  pages,  he  or  she 
may  rest  assured  that  the  verbiage  has  been  alche- 
mized into  something  else.  If  a  few  scarlet  and 
crimson  letters  have  passed  through  without  oblit- 
erating the  dyes,  it  was  because  they  defied  the 
chemicals. 

What  he  has  written  seems  to  me  no  more 
Than  I  have  thought  a  thousand  times  before. 


2. 

ADVICE. 

MAN  of  great  moral  courage  is  one  who 
listens  patiently  and  kindly  to  advice. 
As  I  grow  older  I  find  myself  more  fear- 
ful of  making  mistakes,  and,  hence,  have 
an  almost  morbid  readiness  to  hear  suggestions. 
My  very  best  friends  have  been  kind  to  advise  me. 
In  the  outlook  we  will  take  up  a  few  of  these  sug- 
gestions ;  for  sometimes  right  behind  the  wise  ob- 
servations of  a  friend  a  delicate  idea  may  be  linked 
on,  that  could  not  climb  a  grade  without  some 
stronger  power  in  front. 

An  old  and  tried  friend  of  my  father — Bishop 
Paine — writes:  "You  must  take  time,  arid  don't 
hesitate  because  you  are  his  son.  While  modest 
about  his  life  and  labors,  do  him  justice.  Keep  to 
your  own  style:  I  want  to  see  the  Green  in  the 
book."  This  was  just  the  advice  I  wanted,  only 
that  I  was  not  aware  that  I  had  a  style,  the  igno- 
rance of  which  may  cause  me  to  mix  the  colors  a  little. 
Dr.  Joseph  B.  Walker  —  one  of  my  father's  few 
regular  correspondents — writes:  "Bring  out  the 
work  as  soon  as  you  can  with  justice  to  your  father 
and  yourself.  He  had  a  vast  number  of  old  friends; 
(4) 


ADVICE.  5 

but  almost  every  month  some  one  of  them  passes 
away.  These  old  friends  are  precisely  the  class  that 
will  take  most  interest  in  the  story  of  his  useful 
and  honored  life." 

I  have  a  letter  from  my  old  pastor  and  tutor,  Dr. 
Edward  Wadsworth.  He  says:  "I  determined  to 
write  and  advise  you  to  take  a  full  measure  of  time 
for  the  work."  I  have  also  a  short  communication 
from  Dr.  Anson  West,  who  says:  "Do  not  be  in 
too  great  haste.  Do  your  work  as  quick  as  you  can, 
but  take  time  to  complete  it.  When  it  is  published 
it  will  be  too  late  to  make  corrections."  Though 
the  advice  of  Dr.  West  is  good,  yet  upon  reading 
it  I  was  troubled  in  spirit.  I  felt  slow — exceeding 
slow.  I  felt  like  a  dying  man  as  to  time.  Would 
I,  and  could  I,  do  the  work  right?  I  resolved  to 
take  the  advice  of  my  friends  to  the  utmost  limit 
of  possibility.  I  resolved  not  to  disparage  or  say 
little  humble  things  about  myself. 

I  have  other  samples  of  advice,  mixed  in  with 
something  else  that  poor  human  nature  is  very  fond 
of,  which  I  turn  over  to  the  imagination  of  the 
reader. 

Patient  and  sympathetic  reader !  There  may  be 
a  slight  vein  of  the  humorous  permeating  this  book. 
Please  do  not  be  stern  and  exceeding  proper !  Come 
down  from  your  dignity  and  hear  me!  "Out  of 
the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh." 
It  was  uppermost:  I  could  not  help  it.  Bear  in 
mind,  the  greatest  humorist  is  the  greatest  of  phi- 
losophers. The  man  who  has  no  sense  of  the  ludi- 
crous eats  the  dry  comb,  and  never  tastes  one  drop 


6  ADVICE. 

of  the  honey.  Bring  the  jokeless  man  here,  and  I 
will  place  my  hand  on  his  head  and  say,  Poor 
fellow ! 

Be  it  known  that  I  have  sprinkled  with  my  tears 
this  poor  offering  to  the  memory  of  my  father. 

Mirth  is  the  medicine  of  life: 
It  cures  its  ills,  it  calms  its  strife; 
It  softly  soothes  the  brow  of  Care, 
And  writes  a  thousand  graces  there. 


3- 

FORECASTING. 

Miseret  me  tui. 

|  DING  back  to  the  farthest  limit  of  my 
memory,  Bishop  Paine  was  the  guest  of 
my  father  whenever  he  came  to  Nashville. 
My  love  for  him  was  hereditary,  and  my 
admiration  commensurate  with  my  love.  A  Chry- 
sostom  of  Methodism,  his  mouth  is  golden.  Kindly 
anticipating  my  wants,  he  has  tendered  a  golden- 
worded  leader,  which  I  insert  in  full: 

"  I  pity  you,  and  yet  I  almost  envy  you.  You 
have  consented  to  become  the  biographer  of  your 
father.  No  kind  of  writing,  if  well  done,  is  more 
difficult,  and  none  more  rare.  With  abundant  ma- 
terials, a  fine  subject,  with  leisure,  and  a  high  repu- 
tation for  scholarship,  nearly  all  who  have  attempted 
this  path  of  literature  have  failed.  Heralded  by 
the  publishers,  and  noticed  with  extravagant  praise 
by  a  few  newspapers  and  partial  friends,  the  little 
sensation  produced  at  first  soon  subsides  into  indif- 
ference. Its  doom  is  death;  and  why?  Sometimes 
it  is  not  so  much  the  fault  of  the  writer  or  his  work 
as  of  his  readers.  The  portraiture  of  religious 
character  does  not  strike  the  fancy  of  the  populace; 

(7) 


8  FORECASTING. 

and  the  reading  portion  of  tin-  ( Miristian  community, 
who  should  feel  the  greatest  interest  in  it,  is  too 
small  and  unappreciative.  Politics,  finance,  the 
local  and  general  news  of  the  clay — not  to  mention 
personal  and  family  cares — engross  the  mind,  and 
leave  but  little  time  for  other  and  better  thoughts. 
But  the  fact  is,  most  works  of  this  class,  whatever 
the  merits  of  the  subjects  may  be,  are  very  excep- 
tionable. What  we  demand  in  the  history  of  a 
friend  is  that  he  be  drawn  naturally,  fully,  honestly, 
and  concisely,  as  truth  and  justice  will  allow.  The 
attempt  to  make  him  a  hero,  a  martyr,  a  faultlessly 
great  man  or  minister,  without  human  foible  or 
weakness,  is  a  common  and  capital  defect.  When 
his  true  excellence  in  one  respect  is  so  exaggerated 
in  giving  his  relative  character,  preeminence  is 
claimed  for  him  over  others,  and  thinking  people 
are  simply  disgusted,  and  lay  the  book  down.  Such 
an  attempt  places  subject  and  writer  at  a  damaging 
discount,  and  is  resented  as  a  silly  effort  of  a  mock 
auctioneer  to  palm  off  his  common  delf-ware  for 
the  finest  porcelain.  We  want  to  see  our  friend, 
and  not  the  man  who  purposes  to  show  him  off' — to 
see  him  as  he  was,  .and  is,  and  will  ever  be,  in  the 
great,  truthful  record  of  his  real  life.  We  knew 
him  as  a  man,  a  friend,  a  brother;  a  noble,  God- 
gifted,  loved  and  loving  man,  but  without  wings — 
no  angel.  We  hope  he  is  now  an  angel-man;  but 
we  only  knew  him  as  a  man,  and  not  only  as  a  man, 
but  the  man,  contradistinguished  from  other  men. 
And  as  the  greatest  and  best  of  men  are  only  men, 
and  must  eternally  retain  their  personal  identity, 


FORECASTING.  9 

we  neither  expect  nor  desire  that  they  shall  lose 
themselves  and  become  merged  in  any  imaginary 
community. 

"While  we  ask  for  the  fair  and  truthful  presen- 
tation of  character,  we  are  far  from  wishing  that  a 
biographer  should  detail  all  the  peculiarities  and 
weaknesses  which,  in  a  great  or  less  degree,  attach 
to  all  human  beings.  In  this  category  we  do  not 
include  what  is  criminal — not  an  eclipse,  but  spots 
which  are  lost  to  sight  in  the  effulgence  of  the  sun. 
Charity,  and  even  justice,  can  afford  to  throw  a  veil 
over  all  those  defects  and  peculiarities  which  are 
not  inconsistent  With  Christian  morals. 

"I  said,  'I  pity  you;'  and  so  I  do.  Not  because 
of  your  father's  character — I  believe  it  stainless, 
and  beautifully  consistent;  nor  because  I  distrust 
your  ability,  under  fair  circumstances,  to  do  him 
justice;  but  because  I  conjecture  your  written  mate- 
rials may  be  scant,  and  your  pastoral  and  ministe- 
rial duties  too  exacting  to  allow  sufficient  leisure 
for  such  a  difficult  and  delicate  work.  I  almost 
envy  the  high  and  holy  pleasure  which  filial  rever- 
ence and  love  must  realize  in  delineating  such  a 
father,  and  thus  photograph  upon  mind  and  heart 
the  image  of  one  so  dear  to  you  and  many  of  us 
who  knew  him  long  and  loved  him  so  much. 

"  In  speaking  of  your  task  as  difficult  and  deli- 
cate, I  do  not  allude  to  extraordinary  endowments 
in  any  particular  line,  and  especially  to  any  strik- 
ing peculiarity  giving  eccentricity  to  character,  to 
which  it  might  be  hard  for  you  to  do  justice.  Such 
men  are  so  angular  that  they  touch  society  at  cer- 
1* 


10  FORECASTING. 

tain  points  only,  and  rarely  accomplish  much  for 
the  general  good. 

"  The  artist  who  paints  a  landscape  finds  not  the 
severest  test  of  his  skill  in  sketching  scenery  where 
a  few  rugged  hills  and  lofty  mountains  rise  to  view, 
but  in  minutely  and  faithfully  delineating  the  va- 
ried charm  of  a  scene  where  sublimity  and  grandeur 
are  subordinated  to  beauty,  utility,  and  life-like 
copies  of  nature  and  art.  Then  the  ideal  becomes 
realized,  and  the  copy  the  original.  Thus  the  diffi- 
culty of  the  artist's  work  lies  principally  not  in  the 
bold  and  bare  outlines,  but  in  the  delicate  blending 
of  tints,  forms,  and  shades,  which  make  it  'a  thing 
of  beauty'  and  'a  joy  forever.'  The  best  picture  is 
the  most  natural." 

A  book 's  a  book,  although  there 's  nothing  in 't. 


4. 

GENESIS. 

[LEXAKDER  LITTLE  PAGE  GREEN 

was  born  in  Sevier  county,  Tennessee, 
June  26,  1806.  He  was  one  of  sixteen 
children,  the  youngest  of  seven  brothers, 
and  the  son  of  George  and  Judith  Green.  He  was 
called  Page  for  the  Rev.  John  Page,  who  was  a  dis- 
tinguished preacher  in  his  day,  and  died  only  a  few 
years  since  in  extreme  old  age.  Alexander  being 
very  small  at  his  birth,  the  Little  was  added  to  his 
name  as  a  kind  of  sobriquet.  When  he  was  quite  a 
child  his  father  removed  from  Sevier  to  Rhea  county, 
Tennessee,  and  from  Rhea  county,  after  a  few  years' 
residence,  to  North  Alabama,  where  he  settled  in 
Honey-comb  Valley,  in  Jackson  county,  and  re- 
mained till  his  death  in  1823. 

As  the  history  and  character  of  the  parents  have 
much  to  do  with  the  future  of  the  child,  I  will  fur- 
nish some  imperfect  memories  of  George  and  Judith 
Green. 

I  was  entertained  for  a  time  with  a  family  tradi- 
tion that  George  Green  was  born  in  Virginia,  was 
a  worthy  cion  of  one  of  the  second  families.  This 
was  set  aside  by  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Maria  Prentice, 


12  GENESIS. 

and  his  grandson,  Mr.  \V.  A.  Green,  who  both  tes- 
. >ti  good  authority,  that  ho  was  a  Marylander, 
out  of  one  of  the  first  families,  lie  was  born 
shortly  after  his  parents  came  over  from  "Merrie 
Kim-land:  "  and,  while  lie  was  not  "of  the  Puri- 
tans," there  was  a  broad  vein  of  Puritanism  in  his 
religious  habit.  At  all  events,  he  had  either  heard 
of  or  read  the  Blue  Laws;  and  there  may  have  been 
a  picture  of  the  "Mayflower"  on  the  stained-glass 
front  of  his  clock,  if  he  had  a  clock. 

George  Green  married  Judith  Spillmon,  a  girl  of 
fifteen,  in  1776,  the  first  year  of  American  Inde- 
pendence. Judith  was  born  in  Albemarle  county, 
Virginia,  in  1761.  She  was  converted  the  year  of 
her  marriage,  and  joined  the  despised  Methodists 
eight  years  before  the  formal  organization  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  America. 

Dr.  J.  B.  McFerrin,  in  a  beautiful  tribute,  says: 
"  This  happy  pair  lived  together  forty-seven  years. 
They  were  pioneers  in  three  States — Virginia,  Ten- 
nessee, and  Alabama.  Judith  Green  was  a  woman 
of  remarkable  intellect,  and  deeply  read  in  the 
Scriptures.  It  was  a  source  of  exquisite  pleasure 
to  her  that  she  had  borne  and  reared  a  son  for  the 
ministry." 

Her  religion,  in  expression,  was  not  exactly  the 
parallel  of  her  husband's.  It  was  just  as  good  as 
to  quality,  but  of  the  balmy,  gentle  kind.  It  lay 
away  in  her  heart  like  a  lake  guarded  by  mount- 
ains, knowing  no  storms,  but  expressed  in  gentle- 
ness and  devotion  to  her  family  and  friends.  I  re- 
member her  well,  as  she  spent  the  latter  years  of 


GENESIS.  13 

her  life  in  my  father's  family.  Like  her  son  Alex- 
ander.; she  was  very  fond  of  children,  and  many  de- 
lightful hours  have  I  spent  listening  to  her  stirring 
tales  of  border  strife.  Lamented  and  beloved,  she 
withered  away,  March  18,  1846,  at  the  home  of  her 
son  in  Nashville,  closing  a  long  life  of  eighty-five 
years,  and  a  membership  of  seventy  years  in  the 
Methodist  Church. 

There  woman's  voice  flows  forth  in  song. 

And  childhood's  merry  tale  is  told. 
Or  lips  move  tunefully  along 

Some  glorious  page  of  old. 


5. 
GEORGE  GREEN — SOLDIER  AND  CHRISTIAN. 

fEORGE  GREEN,  shortly  after  his  mar- 
riage in  1776,  joined  the  American  army. 
He  served  for  a  time  in  the  command  of 
General  Greene.  He  was  one  of  the  im- 
mortal nine  hundred  patriots  who  drove  the  boast- 
ing Ferguson  from  King's  Mountain.  He  was  in 
other  engagements,  but  in  after  life  had  but  little  to 
say  about  his  military  career.  He  fought  simply 
from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  after  the  war  was  over 
laid  it  all  silently  aside,  as  a  sad  but  necessary  task 
that  had  been  performed.  He  remarked  to  my 
father,  when  conversing  on  the  subject  of  physical 
bravery,  that  he  always  experienced  a  sense  of  dread 
when  going  into  an  engagement,  but  after  the  battle 
commenced,  and  he  began  handling  his  gun,  this  all 
left  him. 

George  Green  was  emphatically — in  politics  and 
religion — a  man  of  the  period.  The  Sabbath  in 
his  family  was  kept  holy  in  a  strictly  literal  sense. 
The  German  idea  of  making  the  Sabbath  partly 
holy  and  partly  just  any  thing  else  had  not  ob- 
tained at  that  day.  No  manner  of  work  was  per- 
mitted on  Sunday  that  could  possibly  be  performed 
(14) 


GEORGE   GREEN — SOLDIER  AND   CHRISTIAN.  15 

on  Saturday.  No  book  but  the  Bible  was  read  by 
any  member  of  the  family  on  this  consecrated  day. 
No  visiting,  jesting,  or  loud  talking  was  allowed. 
Whistling  was  a  grave  offense.  To  laugh  expressed 
a  giddy,  worldly  mind.  The  children  moved  about 
slowly  and  noiselessly,  as  though  some  member  of 
the  family  were  very  ill  or  dead.  The  Sabbath  was 
a  still,  awful,  solemn  day.  In  striking  contrast  to 
the  bright,  cheerful  Sunday  of  to-day  was  the  Sun- 
day in  George  Green's  family  only  fifty  years  ago. 
Not  that  I  ever  heard  any  expression  from  my 
father's  lips  censuring  the  severe  religion  and 
home-government  of  his  father;  yet  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  Sunday  was  not  the  most  pleasant 
day  in  the  week  in  George  Green's  family;  but  it 
was  just  in  keeping  with  the  family  discipline  of 
that  time.  Those  ribs  of  solid  steel  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  father — so  hard  and  stern — were  melted 
down  into  attractive  graces  in  the  son.  Who  knows? 
the  Deity  may  have  foreseen  the  necessity  of  shap- 
ing for  himself,  in  these  molds  of  iron,  a  man  of 
power.  We  may  condemn  the  severity  of  the  pon- 
derous seal,  but  the  impression  is  eternal.  My 
father  frequently  remarked  that  the  austerity  of 
his  father  had  a  tendency  to  incline  him  in  the  op- 
posite direction. 

Religion  has  not  changed;  like  the  songs  of  the 
birds,  it  is  the  same  now  that  it  was  a  hundred  years 
ago.  The  men  of  the  frontier  were  natural  men, 
with  natural  hearts  and  natural  minds.  Like  the 
great  trees  under  which  they  delighted  to  worship, 
they  were  unfertilized  and  untrained.  The  pioneers 


16  GEORGE   GREEN — SOLDIER  AND   CHRISTIAN. 

wore  brusk  in  manner,  with  strong  impulses,  and 
their  religion  partook  of  the  storminess  and  natu- 
ralness of  its  weather-beaten  professors.  This  was 
the  heroic  age,  and  religion  carried  with  it  the  clang 
of  the  sword,  the  rush  of  the  combatants,  and  the 
shout  of  victory. 

I  am  not  prepared  to  land  the  past  and  bemoan 
the  present.  It  is  not  a  part  of  my  philosophy  that 
dead  things  are  the  best  just  because  they  are  dead, 
and  the  longer  they  have  been  dead  the  better  they 
become.  I  have  no  more  respect  for  a  mummy  than 
for  a  fresh  corpse.  I  do  not  respond  Amen  to  the 
old  saints  who,  in  their  prayers  at  meeting,  celestial- 
ize  the  past,  and  yehennaize  the  present.  Yes,  I  do 
believe  that  the  generous  "leaven"  of  Christianity 
will  continue  to  extend  its  influence  until  the  whole 
lump  of  humanity  is  leavened.  I  cannot  say — truth 
will  not  allow  it — that  the  religion  of  my  grand- 
father was  better  than  the  religion  of  my  father. 
They  both  may  have  attained,  with  some  difference 
of  expression,  the  same  ultimatum  of  faith.  The 
model  of  George  Green  was  John  Wesley;  the 
model  of  A.  L.  P.  Green  wras  the  archetype  of  all 
true  religion,  or  that  which  is  lovely,  and  that  which 
is  best. 

George  Green  owned  no  slaves.  It  may  be  that 
he  had  conscientious  scruples,  as  many  of  the  old 
Methodists  had,  on  that  subject.  I  suspect  he  was  a 
non-slaveholder  for  two  pretty  good  reasons :  first, 
he  did  not  want  them;  second,  he  was  not  able  to 
own  them. 

Waiving  his  excessive  austerity,  which  was  hardly 


GEORGE    GREEN — SOLDIER  AND   CHRISTIAN.  17 

a  crime,  George  Green  was  a  good  man  and  hospit- 
able. His  house  was  the  preaching-place  for  many 
years.  Coke  and  Asbury  shared  his  good  cheer; 
and  Dr.  J.  B.  McFerrin,  when  a  beardless  boy,  min- 
istered in  holy  things  under  his  roof. 

True  religion 

Is  always  mild,  propitious,  and  humble; 
Plays  not  the  tyrant. 


6. 
THE  BOY  ALEXANDER. 

jLEXANDEK  was  the  youngest  boy,  and, 
just  like  the  youngest  boy  in  all  families, 
was  favored  the  most.  Whether  the  rigid 
piety  of  George  Green  would  allow  him 
to  make  pets  of  his  children  may  be  questioned; 
but  I  have  it  from  the  very  best  authority  that 
Alexander  was  favored — it  may  have  been  by  his 
sisters  and  brothers,  it  may  have  been  (we  do  not 
know  positively  to  the  contrary)  by  his  father.  We 
all  know  that  he  was  favored  by  his  mother — and 
why?  Just  because  he  was  the  youngest  of  seven 
boys.  Mothers,  in  all  ages,  have  been  the  same. 
Governments  change,  sciences  change — mothers  do 
not. 

Alexander  was  required  to  do  but  little  hard 
work  on  the  farm.  If  there  had  been  but  two 
boys,  we  might  falter  in  this  record;  but  who  ever 
heard  of  the  youngest  of  seven  boys  working,  except 
for  fun?  Such  a  statement  would  cross-pile  all  fam- 
ily history.  Alexander  plowed  just  a  little.  Boys 
love  to  plow  till  they  get  large  enough  to  make  reg- 
ular hands.  Alexander  brought  water  from  the 
spring — that  was  not  work;  he  chopped  wood  fit 
(18) 


THE   BOY   ALEXANDER.  19 

the  pile — that  was  not  work;  he  drove  up  the  cows — 
that  was  not  work;  he  went  to  mill — that  was  play. 
He  may  have  carried  the  grist  in  one  end  of  the 
bag  and  a  rock  in  the  other;  did  not  other  boys, 
and  even  men,  do  that?  and  did  not  the  miller  re- 
gard the  rock  as  legitimate? 

I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  stopping  for  a 
while  at  the  mill.  I  have  an  attachment  for  an  old 
mill — not  a  steam-mill,  but  a  water-mill — there  is 
so  much  to  entertain  a  boy :  old  loggerheads  float- 
ing around,  an  occasional  musk-rat  or  a  mink, 
rusty  moccasins  peering  at  you  from  the  crevices 
of  the  rock  dam:  and  then,  when  the  sun  goes 
down,  the  owls  come,  and  armies  of  hobgoblins 
march  around.  Besides,  it  is  such  a  gossipy  place 
for  the  old  rheumatic  men,  who  can  do  nothing  on 
the  farm  but  feed  the  hogs,  make  an  ax-helve,  and 
go  to  mill.  The  old  men  and  the  mills  of  eighteen 
eighteen  have  been  swept  away  by  the  floods  of  time. 
The  great  wheel  that  churned  the  blue  water  into 
foam  is  still,  and  the  stories  of  the  old  patriots, 
mixed  with  the  roar  of  the  waters,  have  passed  out 
into  the  unknown  deep. 

Although  the  word  favored  has  been  furnished 
by  tradition,  we  will  give  Alexander  the  credit  of 
being  an  active  boy  in  doing  little  offices  for  his 
mother. 

Whether  the  partial  exemption  from  hard  labor 
had  to  do  with  the  better  development  of  the  finer 
nervous  organism  of  this  youngest  boy — whether 
his  mind  was  stronger  because  of  immunity  from 
the  gross  vassalage  of  the  body,  are  questions  that 


20  THE    BOY   ALEXANDER. 

belong  to  sublime  physics.  Labor  omnia  vincit  does 
not  necessarily  mean  to  conquer  bad  things,  but 
may  mean  to  subdue  good  things.  I  have  known 
intense  coercive  labor  to  destroy  both  energy  and 
spirit.  It  is  a  false  idea  that  there  is  "nobility  in 
labor."  Nobility  is  inherent  in  energy.  Labor  is 
not  the  cause,  but  the  result. 

Alexander  Little  Page  Green  was  not  born  a  man ; 
he  was  a  boy,  with  all  the  boyishness  of  boys:  lit- 
tered up  the  house,  teased  his  sisters,  carried  strings 
and  nails  in  his  pockets,  chunked  the  hogs,  was  fond 
of  horses  and  a  gun,  was  afraid  of  ghosts,  made  a 
great  ado  on  Christmas  with  bladders  and  cane 
guns,  was  always  hungry,  just  like  a  boy  of  1877. 

I  must  state  an  amusing  incident  of  his  boyhood, 
which  I  have  from  his  own  lips.  What  the  offense 
was  he  does  not  state,  but  he  became  very  much 
offended,  and  determined  to  spite  the  whole  family 
by  starving  to  death.  To  carry  out  his  purpose  he 
selected  the  chimney-jamb  behind  the  kitchen — the 
very  place  of  all  places  most  unsuitable  for  starv- 
ing. All  the  afternoon  he  stood  there;  he  could 
hear  what  was  said  in  the  kitchen;  he  was  mortified 
that  his  mother  did  not  mention  his  name.  If  she 
would  call  him,  or  ask  some  one  about  where  he 
was — but  not  a  word  was  spoken  concerning  him. 
Night  came,  and  his  mother  expressed  no  surprise 
at  his  absence;  preparations  were  made  for  supper; 
the  oven  and  skillet  received  the  savory  meal;  and 
at  last — for  there  is  an  end  of  comedy  as  well  as 
tragedy — the  aroma  of  the  renowned  broiled  ham, 
that  has  whetted  the  appetites  of  millions,  found  its 


THE    BOY    ALEXANDER.  21 

way  through  the  chinks,  reached  the  olfactories  of 
Alexander,  and  dashed  his  stern  resolve.  His  con- 
clusion was  to  eat  one  piece  of  broiled  ham,  and 
then  starve. 

Alexander  was  a  boy  of  very  quick  temper.  This 
seems  fabulous  to  his  most  intimate  friends  in  after 
years,  who  only  knew  his  calm  exterior.  He  relates 
this  circumstance:  He  was  plowing,  when  the  horse 
became  unruly,  very  restive;  and  the  young  plow- 
man, furious  with  anger,  and  screaming  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  dropped  the  line,  rushed  forward,  and 
bit  the  poor  beast  on  the  ear.  The  student  of  psy- 
chology can  readily  understand  how  this  latent  fire, 
subsequently  kept  in  bounds  by  a  nice  sense  of 
justice,  prudence,  charity,  and  propriety,  resolved 
itself  into  a  force  that  we  call  energy.  Men  carry 
in  their  back  and  lower  brains  magazines  of  power, 
if  kept  in  abeyance  by  a  trained  and  active  will. 
The  tender  is  no  more  essential  to  the  engine  than 
a  good,  strong  back  brain  is  to  a  vigorous  intellect. 

And  the  mother  looks  from  the  cottage-door 
To  see  how  the  night  comes  over  the  moor, 
And  calls  the  children  home. 


7. 
SCHOOL-BOY. 

(LEXAKDER  was  brought  up  and  edu- 
cated just  like  any  other  boy  in  the  wild 
woods,  who  had  religious  parents.  In 
his  mental  training  there  was  just  a  little 
of  art  and  an  exuberance  of  nature.  There  was  not 
much  science  in  the  log  school-house,  but  there  was 
a  great  deal  to  be  learned  outside  of  it.  The  cur- 
riculum of  the  frontier  school  was  geography,  read- 
ing, spelling,  ciphering,  and  a  little  English  gram- 
mar. An  education  then  was  not  merely  an  auxil- 
iary accomplishment,  but  something  intensely  prac- 
tical— just  as  real  as  a  plow,  and  valued  not  for  its 
polish  or  honor,  but  for  its  utility.  The  boys  and 
girls  were  not  carried  very  far  up  the  hill  of  science, 
but  when  the  school-days  were  past,  and  they  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  real  life,  they  could  at  least 
parse  "I  lament  my  fate,"  and  calculate  simple 
interest. 

The  frontier  school-teacher  was  after  the  pattern 
of  the  other  settlers — not  so  important  as  the  circuit- 
rider,  not  so  influential  as  the  squire,  but  respected 
as  a  man  of  letters,  and  looked  up  to  in  all  matters 
pertaining  to  his  vocation.  Like  the  traveling 
(22) 


SCHOOL-BOY.  23 

preacher,  he  staid  around,  but  in  a  much  smaller 
circuit,  for  he  staid  with  the  scholars.  He  was  an 
autocrat,  from  whose  decisions  there  was  no  appeal. 
Whether  Alexander's  teacher  was  a  Scotchman  or 
an  Irishman  we  know  not.  We  conjecture  that  he 
was  a  stout  man,  had  a  will  and  a  way,  and  was  in 
command  of  the  situation,  except  on  Christmas-day. 

The  log  school-house  was  intensely  primitive;  it 
was  huilt  by  the  settlers  around  in  one  day;  no 
desks  were  dreamed  of;  the  room  was  seated  with 
puncheons;  and  the  teacher,  if  an  old  man,  might 
aspire  to  a  split-bottom  chair.  Female  teachers 
were  rare,  for  the  reason  that  they  did  not  carry  the 
muscle. 

The  border  schools  were  all  mixed.  It  was  not 
considered  a  thing  impracticable  then  for  boys  and 
girls  to  attend  the  same  school.  We  opine  that  a 
strained  delicacy  has  had  somewhat  to  do  with  the 
division  of  the  sexes  in  the  schools  of  the  present 
day.  Human  nature  is  just  as  good  now  as  it  was 
sixty  years  ago.  May  I  venture? — the  spirit  of 
Protestantism,  which  elevates  and  sanctifies,  is  op- 
posed to  any  reflection  upon  the  purity  of  the  sexes 
in  any  educational  or  religious  department. 

While  writing  this  I  am  very  sad  because  only 
small  fragments  are  left  us  of  histories  that  we  love 
most.  Indeed,  what  we  have,  compared  to  what  is 
lost,  is  as  the  microcosm  compared  to  the  macrocosm. 
Those  happy,  shining  ones  that  gathered  in  the 
old  school-house,  the  lessons  said,  the  pranks  they 
played,  the  idle  words  they  spoke — gone,  gone! 
like  the  leaves  of  the  forest,  dropped  and  floating 


24  SCHOOL-BOY. 

upon  the  winds  away,  away!  and  we  stand  looking 
into  the  void,  crying,  Come  back!  come  back!  The 
days  of  my  father's  childhood  and  youth,  like  a 
procession  of  stars,  have  marched  down  the  zenith, 
and  are  hid  behind  the  horizon,  of  more  than  fifty 
years  ago.  The  grass  is  just  as  green,  and  the  trees 
are  just  as  grand,  and  the  birds  sing  as  sweetly;  but 
where  is  the  old  log  school-house,  and  the  brown 
hands  and  feet  of  the  children?  Stop!  it  is  all 
written  in  the  Book  of  Remembrance — "now  we 
know  in  part;  but  then  shall  we  know  even  as 
also  we  are  known." 

They  have  waded  the  shallows  below  the  mill, 
They  have  gathered  wild  roses  on  the  hill, 
A  crown  for  each  tangled  head. 


8. 
RELIGIOUS  BOY  AND  INTERPRETER. 

HAVE  heard  of  religious  children — not 
naturally  religious,  but  trained  from  the 
cradle  to  behave  and  believe.  I  have  read 
of  the  good  children  in  the  Sunday-school 
books,  who  just  will  die  under  the  most  favorable 
circumstances.  Little  Alexander  might  pass  for  a 
religious  child.  He  was  consecrated  from  his  birth 
to  the  Church  and  the  ministry.  The  Holy  Ghost 
called,  and  his  mother — a  royal  priestess — answered. 
She  began  the  preparation  at  once.  The  priestly 
garments  of  Alexander  were  the  prayers,  Christian 
counsel,  and  example  of  his  mother.  Her  prayers 
admitted  no  question  or  doubt.  She  prayed  and 
believed,  and  Alexander  preached. 

He  says  in  his  Journal  that  he  professed  religion 
August  25, 1815.  This  makes  him  an  active  Chris- 
tian when  he  was  just  nine  years  and  twenty-nine 
days  old.  He  embraced  religion  during  a  camp- 
meeting  in  Rhea  county,  Tennessee.  His  father 
was  one  of  the  campers,  and  lived  only  one-half  of 
a  mile  from  the  camp-ground.  I  am  persuaded 
from  his  own  statement,  and  that  of  Mrs.  Prentice — 
his  sister — that  he  was  not  converted  in  the  altar  at 
2  (25) 


-»>  KF.LItJIOrs    I'.dV    AM)    INTKIU'HKTKR. 

the  stand,  but  in  a  rude  chapel  in  his  father's  house, 
where  service  was  being  held  on  Sunday  nisrht  after 
the  eamp-meeting  service  was  over.  His  own  state- 
ment is  that  he  and  an  old  negro  woman  were  the 
only  penitents;  that  when  the  invitation  for  seekers 
was  extended,  he  crawled  under  the  benches  up  to 
the  mourner's  seat.  His  sister  farther  states  that 
after  his  conversio.n  (the  next  morning),  he  came 
back  to  the  camp-ground,  and  commenced  talking 
to  the  mourners;  that  he  joined  the  Church,  and 
that  her  father  put  him  to  praying  in  public.  A  boy 
nine  years  of  age  praying  in  public,  and  put  to 
praying  by  his  father,  is  an  illuminated  chapter  that 
might  well  be  written  on  the  foreheads  of  those 
who  oppose  the  religion  of  children. 

W.  A.  Green  informs  us  that  after  George  Green 
removed  to  Alabama,  Alexander  returned  to  the 
old  neighborhood  in  Rhea  county,  and  went  to 
school  two  years.  While  he  was  going  to  school 
here,  old  Sister  Gotheard  said  she  had  often  hoard 
hjm  conclude  religious  service  by  singing,  prayer, 
and  exhortation,  when  his  head  was  just  above  the 
book-board.  Old  Brother  Gotheard  called  him  his 
"  boy-preacher." 

I  am  not  sorry  to  state  that  there  was  nothing 
particularly  remarkable  about  A.  L.  P.  Green's  con- 
version; it  was  not  Pauline,  but  just  an  ordinary 
experience  that  any  true  penitent  might  have;  and 
I  sincerely  believe  that  the  Church  has  been  af- 
flicted long  enough  with  those  remarkable  conver- 
sions which  make  vain  the  expectations  of  so  many 
well-meaning  seekers  after  Christ.  Thousands  of 


RELIGIOUS    BOY    AND    INTERPRETER.  27 

non -professors,  who  should  be  in  the  Church,  spir- 
itual a^d  strong,  are  now,  and  have  been,  tramping 
on  their  way  to  Damascus,  straining  their  eyes  in 
search  of  the  bright  and  miraculous. 

Besides  the  members  of  his  father's  family,  we 
have  the  name  of  only  one  man  who  was  a  member 
of  the  Society  to  which  Alexander  belonged,  and 
that  was  Hughey  McPhail,  afterward  a  member  of 
the  Tennessee  Conference. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  Alexander  was  appointed 
class-leader,  which  appointment  he  held  about  one 
year.  We  have  here  an  example  of  Methodist  suc- 
cession: George  Green  prayed  in  public — he  put 
his  son  to  praying;  George  Green  was  a  class- 
leader — his  son  succeeds  him.  We  can  imagine  the 
delicacy  of  the  situation.  In  this  class  were  Alex- 
ander's parents,  and  other  members  of  the  family, 
and  straight  old  pioneers,  with  consciences  of  ex- 
quisite tenderness,  and  behold!  a  little  child  in 
Christian  experience  was  leading  them.  A  class- 
leader  then  was  a  very  important  functionary.  He 
was  a  sub-pastor,  having  the  spiritual  care  of  his 
class.  This  was  necessary,  as  the  circuit-rider,  having 
a  very  large  field,  knew  but  little  personally  of  a  great 
many  of  his  members.  Alexander  was,  no  doubt, 
appointed  leader  of  the  class  because  of  the  declin- 
ing health  of  his  father,  who  died  about  this  time. 

It  was  about  1821,  according  to  Dr.  R.  A.  Young's 
statement,  when  Alexander  saw  his  first  distin- 
guished man.  "A  venerable  and  scholarly  gentle- 
man came  to  stay  all  night.  The  boy  learned  that 
the  stranger  was  an  author,  that  he  had  actually 


28  RELIGIOUS   BOY   AND   INTERPRETER. 

written  a  book.  In  after  years  the  Doctor  used  to 
tell,  in  his  inimitable  way,  how  he  stood  oft'  and 
looked  at  the  great  man,  and  how  he  sat  for  hours 
in  mute  astonishment  and  listened  to  his  conversa- 
tion. It  was  the  Rev.  Thomas  Stringfield." 

We  do  not  know  exactly  the  date,  but  sometime 
in  his  teens  Alexander  was  thrown  a  good  deal  with 
the  Creek  and  Cherokee  Indians,  particularly  the 
Creeks,  who,  with  the  Cherokees,  had,  before  their 
removal  to  the  West,  fifty  villages  in  the  Valley  of 
the  Tennessee.  Alexander,  with  the  quick  percep- 
tion of  a  boy,  soon  picked  up  enough  of  the  rude 
language  of  the  savages  to  conduct  an  intelligible 
conversation,  and  was  employed  for  a  time  by  the 
traders  as  an  interpreter.  His  brother  Berry  held 
a  contract  from  the  Government  to  feed  the  Indians. 
He  states  that  for  several  months,  while  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  traders,  he  was  without  a  covering  of 
any  sort  for  his  head.  His  life  among  the  Indians, 
while  it  furnished  him  a  great  deal  of  information 
as  to  the  habits  and  character  of  the  red  men,  and 
the  aboriginal  history  of  the  country,  afforded  him  a 
rich  fund  for  conversation  in  succeeding  years.  His 
fondness  for  field-sports  may  have  been  acquired 
during  his  stay  with  the  Indians. 

Many  years  had  elapsed,  and  Dr.  Green  found  a 
lone  Creek  sitting  on  a  curb-stone  in  Nashville. 
He  walked  up  behind  him  and  spoke  to  him  in  his 
own  tongue,  when  he  sprang  to  his  feet  as  if  he 
had  been  shot.  "What  do  you  want?"  inquired 
the  Doctor.  "I  want  some  of  that  hissing  cider" 
answered  the  Indian,  pointing  to  a  soda-fount. 


9. 

THE  JOURNAL — EXHORTER. 

HAVE  before  me  the  Journal  of  my 
father.  It  has  the  weather-beaten  sweat- 
marks  of  active  service,  for  it  was  writ- 
ten upon  the  field.  Julius  Cesar  swam 
a  river  with  his  Commentaries  between  his  teeth. 
If  a  good  overhanded  swimmer,  he  kept  them  dry. 
Our  soldier  of  Immanuel  (we  know  not  when  nor 
where)  failed  to  carry  his  Journal  in  his  mouth,  for 
he  soaked  it  most  thoroughly  in  unfiltered  water. 
The  quill  pens  used  were  very  good,  but  the  ink 
was  pale,  or  watered,  or  too  black,  and  the  pages 
were  not  lined.  So  the  Journal  comes  to  us  both 
legible  and  illegible;  but  I  have  read  it  all  except 
some  of  the  proper  names,  which  cannot  even  be 
surmised.  It  extends  over  eight  years,  beginning 
in  the  autumn  of  ]  824.  It  is  closely  kept  for  four 
years;  the  remaining  four  years  have  only  an  item 
now  and  then.  Its  long  life  is  remarkable.  A 
journal  of  personal  experiences  can  hardly  be  placed 
among  the  annuals.  At  first  its  breathing  is  regu- 
lar and  quick;  then  it  is  taken  with  an  asthma; 
then,  in  a  sleepy,  intermittent  spell,  it  dies  exceeding 
dc.ad.  Of  course  this  Journal,  taking  it  as  a  whole, 

(29) 


30  THE   JOURNAL — EXHORTER. 

is  of  no  general  interest  to  the  reader,  as  it  is,  in  the 
main,  a  string  of  preaching  appointments.  We 
propose,  as  we  pass  on,  to  take  ont  an  item  here  and 
there  for  the  delectation  of  the  reader.  We  quote 
verbatim: 

"  In  August,  1824, 1  was  licensed  to  exhort,  and,  in 
a  few  weeks  after,  went  on  Paint  Rock  Circuit  with 
the  Rev.  Barton  Brown.  The  first  day  he  preached, 
and  the  second  day  I  preached  for  the  first  time. 
The  next  day  he  preached,  and  the  day  following- 
he  left  me  on  the  circuit  to  fill  his  appointments, 
which  I  did,  and  at  some  places  there  was  consider- 
able work." 

At  that  time  a  license  to  exhort  was  almost  inva- 
riably the  forerunner  of  a  license  to  preach.  The 
exhortation  was  virtually  the  preacher's  trial,  in 
which  he  proved  his  suitableness  "in  gifts  and 
graces  to  preach  the  gospel."  Our  exhorter  calls 
his  exhortation  preaching,  and  I  suppose  he  selected 
a  text  and  preached  a  regular  sermon.  He  was 
licensed  to  exhort  with  a  license  to  preach  in  view. 
I  rather  like  the  plan. 

The  Rev.  R.  K.  Brown  furnishes  us  with  some 
precious  history,  which  he  gathered  from  the  lips 
of  his  sainted  father,  the  Rev.  Barton  Brown,  who 
says:  "I  joined  the  Conference  several  years  before 
Alex.  Green,  and  remember  him,  then  a  boy  of 
eighteen  or  twenty.  He  often  went  round  the  cir- 
cuit with  me,  and  exhorted;  and  he  was  a  very  fine 
exhorter.  One  day  I  said:  'Alex.,  you  must  preach 
to-day  at  eleven.'  This  was  the  first  time.  We 
were  at  a  house  not  far  from  the  church ;  it  was 


THE   JOURNAL — EXHORTER.  31 

about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  young 
preacher  sought  a  place  for  private  prayer,  and 
finally  found  a  large  stump  standing  about  twenty 
yards  from  the  fence  in  afield  of  tall  green  corn, 
and  thither  he  repaired  for  strength  and  wisdom 
from  on  high  for  the  first  and  great  work  of  his 
life.  Not  once  did  he  go,  but  eleven  times  in  three 
hours;  so  that  he  made  a  beaten  path  by  passing 
twenty-two  times  to  and  fro  to  wrestle  with  God. 
At  eleven  o'clock  he  did  preach,  sure  enough. 
Shortly  after,  I  left  the  circuit  for  a  time  in  his 
charge,  and  on  my  return  found  him  the  biggest 
preacher  of  the  two,  and  he  has  been  so  ever 
since." 

This  worthy  senior,  the  Rev.  Barton  Brown,  was 
called  iip  higher  only  a  few  months  before  his  jun- 
ior companion.  How  natural  that  he  should  step 
into  the  chariot  just  a  little  in  advance !  He  leaves 
the  odor  of  a  good  name,  and,  best  of  all,  two  suc- 
cessors of  his  own  blood  and  bone — Hardie  and 
Robert  K. — who  belong  to  the  "  rank  and  file." 

As  the  Church  in  Honey-comb  Valley,  to  which 
Mr.  Green  belonged,  was  upon  the  line  of  two  ap- 
pointments— the  Jackson  and  Paint  Rock  Circuits — 
and  was  shifted  from  one  circuit  to  the  other  from 
year  to  year,  it  is  left  to  inference  whether  in  the 
former  or  the  latter  he  received  his  license  to  exhort. 
His  association  with  Mr.  Brown  points  to  the  Paint 
Rock  Circuit,  upon  which  the  Rev.  Richard  F. 
Jarret  was  preacher  in  charge,  and  the  Rev.  Barton 
Brown  junior  preacher.  At  the  same  time  the 
Rev.  James  McFerrin  and  the  Rev.  Arthur  Me- 


32  THE    JOURNAL — EXHORTER. 

Clure  were  on  the  Jackson  Circuit.  The  Rev. 
"William  MeMulum  was  Presiding  Elder  on  the 
Huntsville  District,  Tennessee  Conference. 

He  most  lives 
Who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  noblest. 


10. 
FIRST  APPOINTMENT. 

* 

|S  we  are  dealing  with  biographical  land- 
marks that  were  "real  and  earnest,"  we 
desire  to  be  strictly  canonical,  and  must 
refer  the  reader  back  to  the  testimony  in 
the  old  Journal. 

After  Mr.  Green  has  been  exercising  his  gifts  as 
an  exhorter  for  a  number  of  weeks,  he  enters  in  his 
diary:  "I  then  returned  home,  and  in  a  few  days 
our  Quarterly-meeting  Conference  was  held,  which 
was  about  the  last  of  August.  At  this  Conference 
I  obtained  recommendation  to  the  District  Confer- 
ence to  preach;  at  which  District  Conference  I  ob- 
tained license,  and  returned  home  again.  At  the 
District  Conference  I  obtained  recommendation  to 
the  Annual  Conference  for  the  traveling  connection 
At  the  Annual  Conference,  which  was  held  about 
the  last  of  November,  1824,  the  Rev.  James  Mc- 
Ferrin  and  I  were  appointed  to  the  Jackson  Circuit 
in  the  State  of  Alabama,  the  Rev.  "William  Mc- 
Mahon,  Presiding  Elder.  On  the  10th  day  of  De- 
cember, 1824,  I  bade  adieu  to  my  friends  and  set 
out  for  my  circuit."  A  letter  from  Bishop  Paine  is 
just  in  place.  He  writes : 

2*  (33) 


34  FIRST   APPOINTMENT. 

"The  Tennessee  Conference  held  in  Columbia, 
November  25,  1824,  was  a  memorable  term  with  the 
writer.  He  had  finished  the  first  year  of  his  presid- 
ing eldership  on  an  immense  District,  had  attended 
the  General  Conference  in  Baltimore,  had  just  been 
married  after  seven  years  hard  service  as  an  itinerant 
preacher.  Among  many  others  who  were  admitted 
on  trial  at  this  Conference  were  three  men  who  be- 
came my  intimate  and  life-long  friends — G.  D. 
Taylor,  George  "W.  D.  Harris,  and  A.  L.  P.  Green. 
The  last  was  reported  to  be  a  very  pious  and  perse- 
vering young  preacher.  His  appearance  was  favor- 
able. He  was,  to  be  sure,  quite  youthful,  and  his 
friends  did  not  claim  for  him  much  educational  cult- 
ure; but  he  combined,  with  a  fine,  manly,  and  even 
handsome  physique,  a  modest,  an  intelligent,  and  a 
kind  of  transparent  sincerity  and  ndimti  of  char- 
acter, which  won  the  confidence  of  the  members. 
At  the  close  of  the  Conference  he  was  appointed 
to  Jackson  Circuit  as  junior  preacher.  James  Mc- 
Ferrin,  the  honored  father  and  head  of  all  our  Mc- 
Ferrin  family,  was  in  charge  of  the  circuit.  It 
proved  to  be  a  year  of  great  spiritual  prosperity." 

Certainly  this  chapter  will  be  fully  ex  cathedra 
when  we  bring  the  neoteros  right  behind  the  presbu- 
teros.  We  quote  from  the  admirable  tribute  of 
Bishop  McTyeire: 

"At  the  Annual  Conference  held  in  the  autumn 
of  1824,  at  Columbia,  fourteen  applied  for  admission 
on  trial  as  traveling  preachers,  who  were  received. 
Among  them  was  A.  L.  P.  Green,  then  in  his  nine- 
teenth year.  As  junior  preacher  he  was  returned 


FIRST   APPOINTMENT.  35 

to  his  home  circuit  that  year  and  the  next.  Among 
the  inferences  we  might  draw  are,  that  his  devel- 
opment in  mind  and  body  was  respectable,  and  even 
vigorous;  though  he  labored  at  and  near  home — 
among  kinsfolk  and  acquaintances — his  ministry 
was  acceptable  and  in  request;  and  this  means  much. 
He  was  not  a  '  novice,'  though  exceptionably  young 
for  a  preacher.  His  case  does  not  fall  under  St. 
Paul's  warning  against  the  elevation  of  'novices' 
in  the  ministry,  for  the  margin  reads,  'One  newly 
come  to  tlie  faith;'  and  he  was  older  in  the  faith 
than  many  who  have  received  ordination." 

The  Rev.  James  McFerrin,  the  senior  colleague 
of  my  father,  was  a  man  of  vigorous  intellect  and 
beautiful  character;  devoted  in  body  and  spirit  to 
the  Church — which  love  he  has  transmitted  to  his 
descendants,  for  he  is  the  father  and  the  grandfather 
of  Methodist  preachers.  Dr.  J.  B.  McFerrin,  who 
joined  the  Conference  the  year  after  my  father,  is 
his  honored  son;  and  we  might  name  nearly  a  half 
score  of  others,  sons,  grandsons,  and  nephews,  who 
are  standing  on  the  walls  to-day. 

James  McFerrin  was  just  a  year  in  advance  of 
my  father,  having  joined  the  Conference  on  trial  in 
the  autumn  of  1823.  Here  we  have  two  men, 
neither  of  them  ordained,  in  charge  of  a  large  circuit. 

It  sounds  a  little  novel  that  A.  L.  P.  Green  ob- 
tained his  license  to  preach  at  a  District  Conference. 
At  the  proper  place  I  have  some  revelations  to 
make  on  the  subject  of  District  Conferences.  The 
Rev.  Greenville  T.  Henderson  says:  "In  the  bounds 
of  the  Tennessee  Conference,  in  1824,  no  District 


36  FIRST   APPOINTMENT. 

Conference  was  held  except  by  the  Rev.  William 
McMahon." 

I  cannot  close  this  paper  without  a  hasty  refer- 
ence to  the  Rev.  William  McMahon.  We  quote 
from  the  official  record: 

"Mr.  McMahon  was  a  preacher  of  wonderful  flu- 
ency and  power.  For  fifty  years  he  held  up  the 
cross  and  preached  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  in 
Kentucky,  Tennessee,  Alabama,  and  Mississippi, 
leaving  holy  foot-prints,  and  winning  votaries  to 
Christ.  No  one  ever  had  the  reputation  that  he 
had  in  North  Alabama  and  Mississippi." 

The  Conference  class  of  admissions  in  1824  was 
composed  of  the  following:  Richard  H.  Hudson, 
John  Summers,  A.  L.  P.  Green,  Thomas  M.  King, 
Isaac  V.  Enochs,  Gilbert  D.  Taylor,  George  W.  D. 
Harris,  Samuel  R.  Davidson,  Thomas  P.  Davidson, 
Henry  J.  Brown,  Amaziah  Jones,  Jeremiah  Jack- 
son, William  V.  Douglas,  Michael  Berry.  A  close 
intimacy  existed  between  George  W.  D.  Harris  and 
A.  L.  P.  Green,  which  continued  without  check  or 
hinderance  till  the  death  of  the  former.  I  know 
not  that  any  of  this  class  remain  except  Michael 
Berry,  father  of  the  Rev.  U.  N".  M.  Berry,  of  the 
Tennessee  Conference,  and  Thomas  P.  Davidson, 
who  is  now  furnishing,  through  the  columns  of  the 
Western  Methodist,  an  entertaining  autobiography. 

Bishops  McKendree  and  Soule  were  present  at 
this  Conference. 

There  never  breathed  a  man  who,  when  his  life 
Was  closing,  might  not  of  that  life  relate 
Toils  long  and  hard. 


11. 

JACKSON  CIRCUIT. 

jjIIE  first  appointment  of  a  Methodist  itin- 
erant, however  insignificant  it  may  be  to 
others,  is  always  full  of  charming  history 
to  him.  He  remembers  vividly  the  roads 
and  by-paths,  the  streams  and  hills;  he  remembers 
the  name  and  location  of  each  church,  and  the  favor- 
ite places  where  he  delighted  to  rest  and  study.  If 
a  good  and  true  man,  his  name  is  blessed  in  many  a 
cottage-home  when  he  is  far  away.  He  may  return 
in  after  years,  when  a  generation  has  taken  its  flight 
— the  churches  have  gone  to  decay,  and  the  old 
registers  are  lost;  but  fresh  in  his  memory  still  is 
the  circuit,  like  an  illuminated  city.  Fifty  years 
have  elapsed:  the  now  aged  man  of  God  knows 
more  than  any  one;  he  has  carried  it  all;  he  can 
tell  you  wonderful  things  that  happened  when  your 
father  was  a  boy. 

I  wish  the  space  and  the  interest  would  allow  the 
insertion,  verbatim,  of  the  whole  Journal. 

The  young  itinerant,  upon  the  threshold  of  the 
first  year's  work,  enters  in  his  diary: 

"Dec.  11,  1824.   I  reached  my  first  appointment 
at  Robert  Clark's;  the  weather  was  cold  and  very 

(37) 


38  JACKSON   CIRCUIT. 

disagreeable,  so  that  there  was  but  a  small  attend- 
ance; but  I  tried  to  preach. 

"Dec.  24,  1824.  I  swam  my  horse  twice  across  a 
creek,  and  preached  to  a  small  congregation.  The 
next  day — Christmas — I  rode  ten  miles,  preached 
to  a  full  house  and  held  class-meeting;  we  had  a 
good  time. 

"Dec.  31,  1824.  I  rode  through  very  inclement 
weather;  swam  a  creek,  but  did  not  meet  any  con- 
gregation. 

"Jan.  2,  1825.  I  preached  to  a  large  congregation 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Bellefonte;  here  we  had  a 
good  meeting  indeed,  and  four  days'  rest." 

This  was  his  first  round  on  the  circuit.  He  notes 
that  Brother  James  McFerrin  joined  him  Decem- 
ber 23,  and  continued  through  the  round.  From 
December  11  to  January  6  he  attended  twenty-one 
appointments.  A  swollen  stream  was  not  in  the 
way  of  an  itinerant  of  1824.  He  states  that  very 
sore  eyes  prevented  his  attending  one  appointment. 
To  preach  and  hold  class-meeting,  besides  riding 
ten  miles,  was  not  too  much  work  for  Christmas- 
day.  He  honors  the  8th  of  January  by  calling  it 
the  "  day  of  days."  We  follow  copy : 

"I  rode  six  miles.  The  preaching  was  at  a  private 
house.  When  I  came  in  ^ight  I  was  astonished  at 
the  number  of  people  assembled;  only  the  females 
could  find  room  in  the  house.  On  this  day  the 
blessed  work  began.  After  the  sermon  I  called  for 
mourners,  and  many  came  up — several  from  the  out- 
side. We  spent  some  time  in  singing  and  prayer, 
and  then  held  class-meeting,  after  which  I  extended 


JACKSON   CIRCUIT.  39 

an  invitation  for  members,  and  joined  five  into 
Society." 

If  I  were  to  make  a  rough  guess,  this  service 
must  have  embraced  all  of  three  hours.  A  very 
ample  text  (no  doubt)  is  followed  by  a  very  full 
sermon;  then  an  exhortation,  or  appeal  for  peni- 
tents; then  "some  time"  in  singing  and  prayer; 
then  the  dear  old  class-meeting;  then  an  invitation 
for  members,  and  their  reception.  Well,  could  the 
short-service  laymen  of  the  present  day  have  stood 
it?  These  people  were  hungry,  because  their  feast- 
days  were  so  far  apart — two  weeks,  and  sometimes 
four.  He  continues: 

"Jan.  10,  1825.  I  rode  ten  miles,  and  preached  to 
a  moderate  congregation.  Here  Methodism  received 
considerable  opposition  from  the  Schismatics. 

"Jan.  11,  1825.  I  rode  over  a  mountain.  It 
rained  hard  all  day.  Brother  Gilliland,  who  was 
riding  around  the  circuit  with  me,  exhorted. 

"Feb.  3,  1825.  I  preached  at  Pleasant  Grove. 
There  was  a  grog-shop  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  from  the  church.  On  the  day  before  I 
preached  a  man  and  a  boy  were  alone  in  this  house 
at  midnight.  The  boy  was  awakened  by  the  screams 
of  the  man,  who  was  on  fire;  he  threw  a  bucket  of 
water  on  him,  but  did  not  extinguish  the  flames. 
The  boy  then  went  to  the  well  to  get  more  water; 
but  when  he  returned  the  man's  clothes  were  burnt 
oft',  and  he  died  about  daylight,  without  a  hope  of" 
heaven. 

"Feb.  5,  1825.  The  Rev.  William  Anderson 
preached  for  me,  and  we  had  a  good  time. 


40  JACKSON   CIRCUIT. 

"Feb.  7,  1825.  I  rode  seven  miles,  and  preached 
to  a  small  congregation ;  but  we  had  a  warm  meet- 
ing. We  held  class-meeting  for  the  first  time  in 
this  place.  The  people  were  considerably  alarmed  at 
the  thought  of  undergoing  an  examination. 

"Feb.  14,  1825.  I  rode  eight  miles,  and  preached 
to  a  small  congregation;  fifty -two  persons  were 
present,  and  fifty  were  females. 

"Feb.  17,  1825.  I  started  to  our  first  quarterly- 
meeting,  about  sixty  miles  distant. 

"March  6,  1825.  Brother  Bewley  preached,  and  I 
preached  after  him. 

"March  20, 1825.  I  preached  at  Smith's,  and  there 
were  persons  present  who  had  walked  five  miles. 

"March  24,  1825.  I  preached  at  Bellefonte,  which 
completed  my  fourth  round.  I  went  home,  and  had 
four  days'  rest.  In  these  four  rounds,  or  sixteen 
weeks,  including  the  extra  work,  I  preached  about 
ninety-five  times." 

They  grow  in  grace  most  rapidly 
Who  labor  most  for  God. 


12. 

JACKSON  CIRCUIT. 

|UR  landlady  shows  a  spirit  of  accommoda- 
tion by  studying  the  tastes  of  her  guests. 
How  could  she  otherwise  "season  justice 
with  mercy?"  Our  landlady  is  a  judge 
of  human  nature,  is  very  discerning,  and,  withal,  is  a 
physiognomist  and  a  historian.  She  reasons  a  priori. 
We  know,  and  she  knows,  that  animals  in  early  life, 
poorly  and  scantily  fed,  when  furnished  with  better 
fare  take  on  appetites  of  exquisite  sensitiveness, 
from  whom  no  accomplishment  of  the  cuisine  can 
draw  the  exclamation,  "  This  is  good ! "  Because  of 
these  our  landlady  is  sad;  they  would  keep  house, 
but  are  incompetent.  Furthermore,  our  landlady  is 
aware  that  as  there  are  standard  literary  works,  so 
there  are  standard  dishes  for  breakfast.  Shall  we 
rebut  and  destroy  that  which  has  been  established 
by  the  custom  of  the  ages?  Our  fathers  all  ate 
beefsteak  and  hash  for  breakfast,  and  so  do  we; 
these  are  culinary  standards.  In  all  well-regulated 
small  families  what  can  or  should  be  the  final  des- 
tiny of  a  large  turkey-gobbler,  the  third  day  after 
its  death,  but  hash?  I  am  proud  of  hash,  because 
it  nourishes  so  many  of  my  friends.  It  is  not  insan- 


42  JACKSON   CIRCUIT. 

ity,  but  the  law  of  association,  that  has  led  me  into 
this  seeming  digression.  A  diary  reminds  me  of 
hash  in  that  it  may  be  constructed  variously  and  be 
destitute  of  a  frame-work.  The  reader  has  a  deli- 
cate stomach,  and  refuses  honey,  which  is  not  script- 
ural, for  Solomon  says,  "  My  son,  eat  thou  honey, 
because  it  is  good."  Every  entry  in  my  father's 
diary  is  good.  I  cannot  force  an  appreciation,  but 
I  can  move  bravely  on.  Yesterday  I  read  the  last 
paper  to  a  fishing  associate  of  my  father — Mr.  M. 
A.  McClaugherty.  He  said:  "Your  father  did  not 
belong  exclusively  to  the  Church;  write  something 
that  will  be  of  interest  to  those  who  are  not  Church- 
people."  While  we  do  not  recognize  the  right  of 
any  one  to  be  out  of  the  Church,  yet  we  would 
rather  please  than  offend  even  this  class. 

Our  young  itinerant  has  another  "day  of  days." 

"April  10,  1825.  I  preached  to  a  small  congrega- 
tion, but  a  happy  one.  I  called  for  mourners,  and 
they  nearly  all  came  up. 

"April  15,  1825.  I  rode  six  miles,  and  preached 
to  a  good  congregation.  Brother  John  McFerrin 
exhorted  and  called  up  the  mourners;  we  had  a 
good  time." 

This  was  the  Rev.  John  B.  McFerrin,  D.D.,  who 
was  received  on  trial  into  the  Tennessee  Conference 
in  the  autumn  of  this  year,  1825. 

"April  18,  1825.  I  started  to  our  second  quar- 
terly-meeting, at  Brother  Jas.  Smith's.  I  preached 
on  the  way.  Brothers  McMahon,  McClure,  Smith, 
arid  King  met  on  their  way  to  the  meeting.  On 
the  second  day  (Thursday)  I  met  Brother  Clark, 


JACKSON   CIRCUIT.  43 

and  staid  all  night  with  him.  On  Saturday  we 
went  on  to  the  meeting,  which  was  held  April  21. 
Brother  McClure  preached  at  eleven,  Brother  Mc- 
Mahon  at  twelve,  and  Brother  Sullivan  at  night. 
On  Sunday  Brother  McClure  preached  at  eleven, 
Brother  McMahon  at  twelve,  and  Brother  King  at 
night,  and  we  had,  indeed,  a  glorious  time;  about 
sixteen  professed  religion." 

It  seems  that  much  stress  was  laid  on  the  preach- 
ing of  the  word.  Here,  at  a  quarterly-meeting,  six 
sermons  were  delivered  in  two  days,  and  no  school- 
boy declamations  of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  at  that; 
they  were  full-grown,  robust,  healthy  sermons. 

"May  1,  1825.  Brother  James  McFerrin  and  I 
attended  a  two -days'  meeting.  We  had  a  good 
time,  considering  the  opposition  to  Methodism  at 
this  point. 

"About  this  time  I  preached  at  Breeks's  Meeting- 
house, and  remained  till  the  camp-meeting.  Here 
we  had  a  glorious  time.  The  meeting  lasted  five 
days,  after  which  I  rode  to  Winchester,  Tenn.,  and 
staid  all  night."  He  continues:  " My  health  is  fee- 
ble; but,  notwithstanding,  I  rode  eight  miles,  and 
preached,  and  received  five  into  the  Church. 

"May  4,  1825.  We  commenced  a  two-days'  meet- 
ing at  Father  Clayton's.  Here  the  Schismatics  had 
been  preaching  a  great  deal,  and  the  minds  of  the 
people  were  on  a  stand.  I  thought  it  right  to  show 
what  the  Schismatics  were.  Accordingly  I  preached 
at  twelve  o'clock  on  the  word  'Watch.'  Before  I 
finished  the  Schismatics  were  all  mad.  One  got  up 
from  his  seat  and  walked  toward  me  with  a  stick, 


44  JACKSON   CIRCUIT. 

and  I  thought  he  was  going  to  throw  it  at  me. 
This  clay's  preaching  drew  the  line  between  the 
Schismatics  and  the  Methodists.  From  this  time, 
during  the  year,  I  was  on  the  circuit  only  at  times, 
being  employed  mostly  at  camp-meetings." 

Dr.  McFerrin,  in  his  "Methodism  in  Tennessee," 
says:  "During  this  period  (about  1818)  the  Arian 
heresy  found  advocates  in  Tennessee,  and  a  sect 
sprang  up,  called  the  'New  Lights,'  or  'Schismat- 
ics.' They  were  headed  by  some  prominent  Pres- 
byterian ministers,  the  most  distinguished  of  whom 
was  Barton  W.  Stone,  a  man  of  considerable  learn- 
ing and  decided  popularity.  They  called  themselves 
'Christians,'  and  led  away  hundreds  who  were  influ- 
enced by  their  heretical  teachings." 

"July  14,  1825.  Our  camp-meeting  came  on  at 
Bellefonte,  and  here  we  had  the  greatest  time  that  I 
ever  witnessed.  The  meeting  convened  on  Thurs- 
day and  broke  up  on  Tuesday.  I  think  in  Jhat 
length  of  time  I  slept  about  ten  hours  in  all.  Every 
morning  I  went  around  and  took  the  number  that 
had  professed  at  each  tent  in  twenty-four  hours. 
There  were,  during  the  meeting,  one  hundred  and 
three  conversions  that  we  heard  from,  and  many 
more  not  reported;  seventy-nine  joined  the  Church. 

"  From  this  camp-meeting  I  went  to  another  near 
Owensboro,  Tenn.,  where  we  had  a  good  time.  I 
then  returned  to  my  circuit,  and  preached  until  the 
next  quarterly-meeting,  which  was  September  15. 
Here  we  had  a  good  time  indeed;  it  continued  from 
Thursday  till  Monday.  Seventy-one  professed  re- 
ligion, and  forty-nine  joined  the  Church. 


JACKSON   CIRCUIT.  45 

"  The  next  week  I  attended  a  camp-meeting  in 
East  Tennessee,  near  Washington.  This  was  a  good 
meeting. 

"Next  I  went  to  a  camp-meeting  at  Winchester, 
and  from  that  to  the  District  Conference;  then 
returned  home,  and  attended  a  camp -meeting  in 
Madison  county,  near  Brownsboro.  I  then  tarried 
at  home  for  two  or  three  days,  and  returned  to  my 
circuit,  attended  three  protracted -meetings,  and 
then  took  leave  of  my  work,  and  started  for  the 
Annual  Conference,  which  was  held  in  Shelby ville, 
Tenn.,  commencing  November  10,  1825,  and  contin- 
uing in  session  ten  days.  I  was  again  returned  to 
Jackson  Circuit. 

"In  the  Conference-year  of  1824  and  1825  I  rode 
something  like  fifteen  hundred  miles,  preached  over 
two  hundred  times,  and  received  two  hundred  into 
the  Church." 

A  splendid  summary  for  the  first  year!  I  find,  in 
a  strange  chirography — perhaps  by  the  Rev.  James 
McFerrin — these  words:  "May  the  Lord  bless  your 
labors  while  you  live  in  the  world,  and  help  you  to 
be  humble!" 

Bishops  Roberts  and  Soule  were  present  at  the 
Conference  in  Shelbyville. 

I  saw  one  man,  armed  simply  with  God's  word, 

Enter  the  souls  of  many  fellow-men, 
And  pierce  them  sharply  as  a  two-edged  sword. 


13. 

ADVENTURES  AND  OTHER  MATTERS. 

TOURIST  may  write  a  book,  provided 
he  has  been  turned  over,  blown  up,  sunk, 
frozen,  starved,  robbed,  slept  on  the  floor, 
crowded,  lost  his  money,  and  caught  the 
fever.  I  took  up  my  pen  to  write  about  the  "  Cen- 
tennial;" I  was  discouraged:  I  had  only  spent  my 
money  and  been  crowded. 

I  notice  in  the  magazines  illustrated  accounts  of 
travels;  the  pictures  add  much  interest — e.  g.,  men, 
like  flies,  climbing  up  perpendicular  cliffs,  riding  on 
avalanches,  leaping  on  sticks  over  great  chasms  that 
would  pale  a  chamois.  Sober,  unimaginative  trav- 
elers, following  on  behind,  fail  to  find  these  places 
of  perilous  interest. 

A  soldier  who  has  fought  no  battles  is  without  the 
glamour  of  a  hero.     A  soldier  must  be  shot  at,  or  be 
captured,  or  have  a  scar  somewhere  in  front.     If  I 
wished  to  be  a  colonel,  I  would  put  on  two  over- 
coats, a  pair  of  cavalry  boots,  a  pair  of  thick  leg- 
gins,  wrap  a  comfort  around  my  head,  and  get  a 
blind  man  with  a  fowling-piece  to  stand  off  about 
two  hundred  yards  arid  shoot  at  me  with  bird-shot. 
A  Methodist  preacher  who  never  rode  a  circuit 
(46) 


ADVENTURES    AND    OTHER    MATTERS.  47 

*   . 

is  without  history.  He  may  be  a  great  man,  and 
a  good  preacher  in  Jerusalem,  but  he  came  up 
without  fighting  Edom  and  Moab. 

The  history  of  a  Methodist  itinerant  could  not 
be  entertained  without  his  engagements,  his  great 
meetings,  and  his  adventures  on  horseback  in  the 
wood  and  the  stream. 

The  diary  of  the  second  year  begins:  "George 
"W.  Morris  and  I  were  appointed  to  the  Jackson 
Circuit,  and  on  November  23,  1825,  we  struck  the 
circuit  at  Brother  McFarlin's.  Brother  Morris 
preached,  and  we  held  class-meeting." 

"Dec.  10,1825.  I  had  the  most  disagreeable  ride 
that  I  ever  experienced.  I  had  about  twelve  miles 
to  travel  over  a  mountain.  About  daylight  it  com- 
menced to  snow,  and  snowed  very  hard.  At  ten 
o'clock  I  started  for  my  appointment,  and  in  about 
two  miles  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  where 
the  snow  was  much  deeper  than  lower  down.  It 
was  about  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  top  of  the  mount- 
ain, and  very  rocky  and  steep.  On  account  of  the 
ascent,  and  the  snow  covering  the  rocks,  my  horse 
had  a  very  uncertain  footing,  and  I  had  to  dismount 
and  lead  him.  It  being  the  south  side,  I  was  shel- 
tered from  the  storm  in  a  good  degree;  but  in  climb- 
ing I  became  very  warm,  and  the  snow  giving  way 
under  my  feet  made  it  very  laborious.  By  the  time 
I  reached  the  top  of  the  mountain  I  was  wet  with 
perspiration,  and  it  seemed  that  I  had  reached 
another  world,  for  the  wind  blew  very  hard  and 
cold  from  the  north,  and  the  clouds,  from  which 
the  snow  was  falling,  apparently  lay  on  the  ground. 


48  ADVENTURES    AND    OTHER    MATTERS. 

It  was  so  dark  that  I  could  scarcely  find  my  way. 
It  not  only  snowed,  but  sleeted,  so  that  the  few  low, 
scrubby  trees  were  loaded  with  ice.  The  wind  blew 
the  snow  in  my  face,  and  my  clothes  hung  with 
icicles.  I  saw  no  way  of  relief.  The  snow  clogged 
my  horse's  feet,  and  he  traveled  with  difficulty. 
About  one  o'clock  I  reached  my  appointment,  and 
met  three  or  four  persons,  and  preached  to  them  a 
short  sermon,  and  we  had  a  tolerable  good  time. 

"On  this  day  I  had  another  appointment  fifteen 
miles  distant,  but  failed  to  reach  it  in  time — arrived 
at  the  place  at  dark.  I  ate  something,  and  started 
for  u  night  appointment  five  miles  distant.  It  was 
bitter  cold,  but  when  I  reached  the  place,  to  my 
great  surprise,  I  found  a  house  full  of  people.  I 
preached  to  them  one  hour  and  a  half,  prayed  three 
times,  sang  about  six  hymns,  joined  them  into  So- 
ciety, and  rode  five  miles  the  same  night  after  ten 
o'clock." 

The  reader  is  ready  to  join  with  the  young 
preacher  in  calling  this  "a  day  of  days."  Combin- 
ing the  mental  effort,  the  physical  labor  and  expos- 
ure, few  men  ever  accomplished  so  much  in  thirteen 
hours.  The  result  of  this  day's  hardship  he  carried 
to  his  grave;  for  upon  that  bitter  night  he  was  frost- 
bitten, from  the  effects  of  which,  combined  with 
tetter,  he  died.  Now  we  are  left  musing:  All  this 
exposure — was  it  necessary?  That  house  full  of 
people  assembled  that  cold  night  must  have  a  shep- 
herd. How  could  they  hear  without  a  preacher? 
Can  the  angels  tell  the  beautiful  destinies,  more 
charming  than  the  "beautiful  snow,"  that  have 


ADVENTURES   AND    OTHER   MATTERS.  49 

evolved  from  that  day's  work?  Truly,  the  Meth- 
odism of  fifty  years  ago  was  in  league  with  the 
hurtling  storm,  and  in  favor  with  the  rolling  flood, 
for  it  "stopped  and  staid"  not  for  either.  I  am 
glad  that  in  the  absence  of  immaculate  shirt-bosoms, 
and  still  more  elegant  discourses,  it  can  boast  of  its 
battered  veterans,  who  carried  the  word  to  those 
who  sat  in  the  shadow  of  the  mountains,  "hunger- 
ing and  thirsting  after  righteousness."  He  writes: 

"Dec.  11,  1825.  I  rode  six  miles,  and  crossed  a 
high  mountain.  I  was  forced,  because  of  the  slip- 
pery rocks,  to  walk  up  the  mountain.  I  at  length 
reached  my  appointment,  and  preached  to  a  small 
congregation.  The  same  night  I  had  an  appoint- 
ment about  three  miles  distant;  here  I  met  a  large 
crowd,  considering  the  cold.  The  church  being 
open  and  the  people  uncomfortable,  we  had  a  dull 
time. 

"Dec.  21,  f  1825.  I  rode  forty  miles,  and  reached 
my  mother's,  in  Honey-comb  Valley.  Here  I 
preached  to  a  large  congregation  on  Christmas-day. 

"Jan.  19,  1826.  We  had  trying  times  indeed. 
[Joshua  Clark  was  with  him.]  We  had  eight  miles 
to  ride,  and  a  mountain  to  cross,  and  the  snow  was 
falling  heavily  all  the  time.  We  had  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  mountain,  and  were  thoroughly  wet  by  the 
snow,  which  was  eight  inches  deep.  At  twelve 
o'clock  we  reached  our  appointment  at  Mt.  Zion, 
and  found  nine  persons.  I  preached  a  short  sermon. 
The  good  Lord  was  present,  and  I  received  eight 
members,  and  staid  all  night  at  Father  Clark's. 
This  was  a  day  of  suffering  with  me,  and  brought 
3 


50  AI'VKXITHKS    AND    OTIIKR    MATTERS. 

to  my  mind  the  pleasures  of  home  and  the  eternal 
rest  that  lies  beyond  this  vale  of  tears,  which  ever 
bears  me  up  under  sore  trials. 

"Feb.  10,  1826.  I  rested  at  Brother  Roborts's, 
and  was  employed  principally  in  reading  'Wesley's 
Philosophy.' 

"Feb.  23,  1826.  I  rode  six  miles  to  my  appoint- 
ment at  William  Barclay's.  The  people  turned  out 
pretty  generally;  the  house  was  crowded,  and  out- 
side there  were  about  fifty.  I  preached  one  hour 
and  a  half,  and  the  people  wept  aloud;  I  called  for 
mourners,  and  a  number  fell  upon  their  knees  in 
the  house,  and  as  many  outside.  This  was  a  pre- 
cious time. 

"Feb.  25,  1826.  I  rode  to  my  appointment  and 
preached;  but  few  were  out,  for  the  waters  were  up, 
and  the  people  did  not  expect  me." 

My  father's  senior  colleague  this  year — George 
W.  Morris — has  been  represented  as  rather  an  ec- 
centric character,  but,  withal,  a  man  of  severe  mor- 
als and  rigid  piety.  He  joined  the  Tennessee  Con- 
ference on  trial  in  1819.  In  1837  he  was  transferred 
to  the  Arkansas  Conference,  in  wrhich  he  continued 
to  labor  till  1842,  when  he  located. 

They  are  sowing  the  seed  of  word  and  deed 
Which  the  cold  know  not  nor  the  careless  heod — 
Of  the  gentle  word,  and  the  kindly  deed, 
That  hath  blest  the  world  in  its  sorest  need; 
Sweet  will  the  harvest  be. 


14. 

LABORS  AND  SICKNESS. 

JHERE  were  giants  in  the  earth  in  those 
days."  I  am  not  surprised,  for  there  are 
giants  in  the  earth  in  these  days.  We 
read  in  the  Church-histories  of  those  "  sons 
of  thunder"  who  climbed  the  mountains  and  swam 
the  rivers — men  of  strong  faith  and  iron  constitu- 
tions. The  last  adjective  is  not  an  exaggeration. 
Iron,  when  exposed  to  the  weather,  will  not  outlast 
a  man  of  ordinary  strength;  neither  will  a  man  of 
great  physical  vigor,  overtaxed  in  mind  and  body, 
outlast  iron.  An  iron  constitution,  like  an  iron 
bridge,  sometimes  takes  us  by  surprise  with  a  crash. 
Delicate  people,  who  have  no  acute  distempers,  as 
a  general  rule,  live  the  longest.  Why?  Because 
they  do  not  presume  on  their  strength,  and  pay 
some  regard  to  the  laws  of  health.  I  remember  all 
of  twenty-five  years  ago,  Jones  came  staggering 
into  church.  I  thought,  solemnly,  "  The  place  that 
knows  Jones  will  soon  know  him  no  more;"  but 
Jones  is  still  with  us,  comes  to  church,  has  but  one 
eye,  has  no  teeth  except  those  furnished  by  the  den- 
tist; Jones  looks  at  you  straight  and  steady  with 
that  one  eye,  and  says,  "I  am  tolerable." 

(51) 


52  LABORS   AND    SICKNESS. 

My  cousin  Zenobia,  not  for  pleasure,  but  health, 
has  been  boarding  at  the  springs  every  summer  for 
twenty  years  and  more.  She  is  still  with  us,  and 
can  endure  more  fatigue  than  her  younger  and  more 
robust  sisters. 

Our  young  preacher  had  a  fine  physique — perfect 
health,  and  no  hereditary  disease;  and  yet  exposure, 
excessive  labor,  and  the  want  of  rest  began  to  prey 
upon  his  iron  constitution.  Hear  what  he  says: 

"Feb.  28, 1826.  I  awoke  in  the  morning  very  sick, 
was  apprehensive  that  I  had  taken  cold.  I  took  a 
sweat,  but  without  any  apparent  good  effect.  This 
day  I  suffered  considerably  in  body,  but  my  mind 
was  composed;  the  next  day  I  took  some  medicine, 
which  seemed  to  be  of  service  at  first,  but  owing  to 
the  damp  air  I  took  fresh  cold. 

"March  3,  1826.  I  found  myself  growing  worse; 
a  physician  was  called  in,  and  from  this  day  I  began 
to  mend.  I  took  another  sweat,  which  had  a  good 
effect. 

"March  5,  1826.  I  was  able  to  ride  a  mile  or 
two. 

"March  6,  1826.  I  rode  six  miles,  and  staid  all 
night  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bellefonte,  at  Brother 
James  Gilliland's. 

"March  7,  1826.  This  day  I  spent  mostly  riding 
about  in  the  neighborhood,  as  the  people  said  it 
would  be  of  advantage  to  me  to  be  thus  employed. 

"March  9,  1826.  I  visited  a  gentleman  who  was 
afflicted  pretty  much  in  the  same  way  that  I  was. 
He  was  a  great  sinner,  and  on  this  day  was  taken 
with  a  terrible  delirium,  so  that  it  required  four 


LABORS   AND   SICKNESS.  53 

men  to  hold  him  in  bed.  In  a  few  hours  the  delir- 
ium was  past,  and  in  a  few  days  he  was  well." 

This  is  the  first,  and  I  believe  the  last,  allusion  in 
his  Journal  to  pastoral  visiting — in  the  present  day 
the  greatest  labor  of  a  Methodist  preacher.  Under 
the  old  regime  preaching  was  first,  and  visiting 
second.  Now,  whether  for  the  better  or  the  worse 
I  cannot  say,  visiting  is  first.  The  old  preachers  of 
to-day  take  very  slowly  to  visiting.  Fifty  years 
ago  the  province  of  a  preacher  was  to  preach,  and 
he  gave  himself  unreservedly  to  the  expounding  of 
the  word;  and  how  could  it  be  otherwise,  when,  as 
in  the  present  case,  more  than  twenty-one  appoint- 
ments had  to  be  filled  in  a  month?  He  continues: 

"March  14,  1826.  I  rode  five  miles,  and  preached 
for  the  first  time  after  my  sickness,  on  the  words, 
'In  the  Lord  put  I  my  trust.'  Before  I  finished,  the 
people  shouted  so  that  I  had  to  desist.  We  had  a 
good  meeting.  Thank  the  Lord  for  experiencing 
the  truth  of  the  scripture,  'They  that  wait  on  the 
Lord  shall  renew  their  strength!' 

"April  3, 1826.  I  rode  five  miles,  and  met  a  good 
congregation  at  Captain  McMahon's.  I  was  very 
much  depressed  by  a  sense  of  weight  in  my  chest. 

"April  4,  1826.  I  rode  to  my  appointment  at  Mt. 
Pleasant.  Not  being  able  to  preach,  a  brother  held 
meeting  for  me. 

"April  5,  1826.  I  rode  five  miles  to  my  appoint- 
ment at  Shiloh.  I  engaged  a  brother  to  hold  the 
meeting;  I  had  a  high  fever,  and  at  night  suffered 
very  much. 

"April  6,  1826.  With  much  difficulty  I  made  out 


54  LABORS   AND   SICKNESS. 

to  reach  my  appointment,  but  had  to  dismiss  the 
congregation.  I  had  eaten  nothing  of  any  conse- 
quence for  two  days.  In  the  afternoon  my  fever 
al tared,  and  I  rode  fifteen  miles  to  an  appointment 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Bellefonte.  Brother  Mcln- 
tire  preached  for  me,  and  we  had  a  good  and  glo- 
rious time. 

"April  7,  1826.  I  rested,  and  felt  better. 

"April  8,  1826.  In  company  with  Brother  Mclu- 
tire  and  Brother  Abbets,  I  rode  twenty  miles  to  a 
two-days'  meeting.  "We  reached  the  appointment 
at  twelve  o'clock.  Brother  Mclntire  preached  and 
called  for  mourners.  Four  of  the  dear  people  found 
God  in  the  pardon  of  their  sins.  The  sinners  wept, 
and  the  Christians  shouted.  We  held  meeting  again; 
Brother  Ellis  preached,  and  two  more  found  peace. 

"April  9,  1826.  We  held  love-feast,  and  to  many 
it  was  a  love-feast  indeed.  Glory  to  God  for  his 
goodness!  At  eleven  o'clock  Brother  Mclntire 
preached,  followed  by  another  brother — both  good 
sermons.  After  the  last  sermon,  as  this  was  a  re- 
tired neighborhood,  and  had  never  been  blessed  with 
a  quarterly-meeting,  it  was  thought  proper  that  the 
sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  should  be  admin- 
istered. Brother  Morris,  who  was  an  ordained 
preacher,  conducted  the  service,  and  we  had  a  good 
time.  Sunday  night  a  brother  was  appointed  to 
preach  who  did  not  arrive  on  account  of  the  inclem- 
ent weather.  I  attempted  to  preach,  but  was  una- 
ble to  stand,  and  Brother  Mclntire  took  my  place, 
and  preached  a  short  sermon.  There  were  five  ac- 
cessions and  six  conversions  at  this  meeting. 


LABORS    AND    SICKNESS.  55 

" April  10,  1826.  I  rode  tea  miles,  to  my  mother's, 
with  the  intention  of  staying  until  I  regained  my 
strength.  I  remained  until  the  16th,  and  then,  as 
my  strength  had  somewhat  returned,  I  rode  twenty 
miles,  and  attended  a  quarterly-meeting  of  Brother 
McMahon's,  near  Huntsville.  On  Saturday  night 
I  endeavored  to  preach,  and  Brother  McMahon  ex- 
horted. Sunday  morning  at  ten  o'clock-  the  Lord's 
Supper  was  administered.  At  eleven  o'clock,  on 
account  of  Brother  McMahon's  illness,  I  had  to 
preach. 

"April  17,  1826.  I  rode  home,  and  continued  until 
the  19th ;  I  then  set  out  to  attend  our  second  quar- 
terly-meeting, in  the  eastern  part  of  Jackson  county, 
near  the  Tennessee  line.  This  meeting  was  con- 
verted into  a  camp-meeting,  which  continued  from 
Thursday  till  Monday,  during  which  time  thirteen 
professed  religion,  and  ten  joined  Society.  This 
was  an  obscure  neighborhood,  and  the  congrega- 
tions were  small,  but  the  Lord  was  in  and  about  his 
people. 

"April  26,  1826.  Brother  McMahon  and  I  started 
out  for  the  Cherokee  Nation.  With  Brother  Neely 
I  staid  all  night  at  William  Neely's,  and  there  we 
remained  tilt  Friday  afternoon  (the  29th).  We  then 
rode  to  the  camp-ground,  about  three  miles  from 
town.  This  meeting  continued  till  the  9th  of  May. 
There  were  about  sixteen  conversions,  and  the 
Christians  enjoyed  themselves  very  much.  Glory 
to  God  for  his  goodness! 

"May  9, 1826.  Brother  Morris  and  I  left  the  camp- 
ground, with  the  expectation  of  meeting  next  day. 


56  LABORS    AND    SICKNESS. 

The  next  morniug  I  rode  to  the  place  appointed, 
and  remained  until  twelve  o'clock,  but  heard  noth- 
ing of  Brother  Morris.  I  thought  it  advisable  for 
me  to  start,  as  my  appointments  commenced  the 
day  after,  and  I  had  a  mountainous  wilderness  of 
thirty-five  miles  to  pass  through  before  reaching  the 
settlements.  This  was  a  memorable  day  to  me,  for 
I  was  very  sick  all  day;  and  being  all  alone,  I  had 
opportunity  for  meditation.  I  had  some  happy  mo- 
ments in  thinking  of  the  joys  of  heaven.  At  eight 
P.M.  I  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  stopped 
with  a  Mr.  Brown.  It  was  to  me  a  disagreeable 
night,  for  there  were  six  or  seven  dark-looking  men 
there,  who  staid  all  night,  whose  principal  em- 
ployment was  to  drink  whisky  and  argue  on  Script- 
ure. I  was  called  on  occasionally  to  decide  disputed 
points. 

"May  19,  1826.  I  preached  to  a  small  congrega- 
tion, but  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  I  could 
speak  at  all,  for  I  was  very  unwell  indeed. 

"May  20,  1826.  I  rode  seven  miles,  and  preached 
to  a  small  congregation.  I  could  scarcely  stand, 
but  blessed  be  God  that  in  my  affliction  the  Lord 
was  with  me! 

"May  21,  1826.  I  rode  three  miles,  and  met  a 
large  congregation.  Here  I  got  Jesse  Ellis  to 
preach  for  me,  and  we  had  a  good  time  in  preach- 
ing and  class-meeting.  I  met  another  large  con- 
gregation, and  could  get  no  one  to  preach.  I  com- 
menced with  the  intention  of  praying  and  exhort- 
ing a  little;  but  I  concluded  to  try  and  preach,  and 
the  Lord  blessed  me  with  strength  enough  to  de- 


LABORS   AND    SICKNESS.  57 

liver  a  short  sermon.     I  concluded  to  go  home  and 
stay  till  I  died  or  regained  my  strength." 

The  common  ingredients  of  health  and  long  life  are 
Great  temperance,  open  air, 
Easy  labor,  little  care. 


3* 


15. 

MEETINGS  AND  INCIDENTS. 

|E  presume,  and  assume,  that  the  reader  is, 
•or  should  be,  very  much  interested  in  the 
Journal.    So  we  will  not  trespass  on  time 
or  space  with  an  introduction.    The  good 
old  book  is  open : 

"June  28, 1826.  I  left  home  and  started  for  my 
circuit.  I  met  Brother  Conn,  who  was  to  travel  the 
circuit  with  me  for  these  reasons:  Brother  [F.  A.] 
Owen,  who  was  appointed  to  the  Cherokee  Mission, 
took  sick  and  went  home;  Brother  Morris  had  to  go 
and  fill  his  place,  and  Brother  Conn  was  removed 
from  the  Paint  Rock  to  the  Jackson  Circuit." 

The  Rev.  William  W.  Conn  died  only  a  few  years 
since,  in  extreme  old  age.  He  was  admitted  on  trial 
into  the  Tennessee  Conference  in  1822,  and  located 
in  1828.  He  was  a  good  man,  and  very  much  be- 
loved. The  appointment  of  Mr.  Conn  as  the  col- 
league of  my  father  explains  the  failure  of  Mr. 
Morris  to  meet  his  engagement,  for  he  was  then 
on  his  way  to  the  Cherokee  Mission.  We  return 
to  the  Journal: 

"July  13,  1826.  Our  'fourth  quarterly-meeting' 
commenced  at  Father  Clark's,  and  continued  till  the 
(58) 


MEETINGS   AND   INCIDENTS.  59 

eighteenth;  it  was  converted  into  a  camp-meeting; 
we  had  great  and  good  times ;  there  were  sixty-two 
conversions,  and  twenty-nine  joined  Society. 

"Aug.  2,  1826.  Brother  Stephen  Carter,  Mary  (his 
daughter),  and  I  started  for  a  camp-meeting  in  Lime- 
stone county.  We  rode  this  day  about  forty-five 
miles,  and  came  very  near  having  to  stay  out  in  the 
swamps  of  Flint  River.  We  had  to  travel  till  nine 
o'clock  at  night  before  reaching  a  place  to  stay. 

"Aug.  4.  We  reached  the  camp-meeting,  which 
held  four  days,  and  we  had  tolerable  good  times. 
Thirty  professed  religion,  and  twenty-nine  joined 
Society. 

"Aug.  15. 1  rode  ten  miles,  and  preached  at  Sharon 
Meeting-house.  We  had  a  glorious  meeting.  Brother 
A.  Harris  was  with  me,  who  had  embraced  religion 
a  few  weeks  before,  and  it  appeared  that  wherever 
he  went  the  fire  burned;  just  a  word  about  the  good- 
ness of  the  Lord  would  set  him  to  shouting.  Thank 
God  for  a  shouting  religion ! 

"Aug.  16.  Brother  Harris  and  I  rode  five  miles  to 
my  appointment  at  Brother  McFarlin's.  Here  the 
meeting  exceeded  any  thing  that  I  had  ever  seen 
before.  My  own  feelings  became  so  kindled  while 
I  was  preaching  that  I  had  to  desist;  and  it  is  said 
that  every  one  shouted  except  some  children  and 
one  young  man,  and  there  was  a  large  congrega- 
tion. 

"Aug.  20.  My  horse  being  sick,  I  had  to  leave  him 
and  borrow  one,  which  was  extremely  disagreeable 
to  me.  On  my  journey  I  suffered  myself  to  reason 
with  the  devil,  which  was  to  my  advantage.  The 


60  MEETINGS   AND   INCIDENTS. 

first  thing  he  represented  to  me  was  the  difficulty 
of  traveling  and  preaching — the  many  days  of  ill- 
health  that  I  had  experienced;  besides,  my  horse 
was  both  sick  and  lame,  and  my  cloak  had  been 
stolen.  Now,  if  the  Lord  had  appointed  me  to 
travel  and  preach,  why  were  so  many  difficulties  in 
my  way?  But  when  I  began  to  think  of  the  many 
times  that  the  Lord  had  blessed  me  and  my  preach- 
ing, and  the  souls  that  he  had  given  me  for  my  hire, 
I  was  enabled  to  say,  'Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan!' 
and,  in  the  language  of  the  psalmist, '  O  Lord,  in  thee 
do  I  put  my  trust!'  On  the  Sunday  following  Brother 
Maclin  Bewley  drew  up  a  subscription-paper  to  buy 
me  a  horse.  He  made  up  twenty  dollars  and  upward 
in  one  day,  which  in  a  few  days  had  reached  seventy 
dollars. 

"Sep.  2,  1826.  Brother  Bewley  and  I  rode  to  a 
camp-meeting  in  Blue  Spring  Cove.  This  was  a 
Presbyterian  meeting.  We  staid  there  until  Sep- 
tember 5. 

"Sep.  6.  I  went  to  my  mother's,  in  Honey-comb 
Valley.  Here  we  had  a  large  congregation  and 
good  times.  Brother  Bewley  preached.  From  this 
we  went  to  Brother  King's  camp-meeting,  on  Paint 
Rock  Circuit,  and  staid  until  the  eleventh;  I  then 
returned  to  my  own  work. 

"Sep.  14.  I  attended  my  appointment  at  Pleasant 
Grove.  On  the  way  I  was  presented  with  a  horse 
by  Brother  Bewley;  this  horse  he  had  got  up  for 
me  by  subscription,  which  was  worth  at  least  one 
hundred  dollars;  besides  which  he  put  into  my 
hands  one  hundred  dollars,  to  be  disposed  of  as  I 


MEETINGS   AND   INCIDENTS.  61 

pleased.  I  was  very  thankful  indeed — thankful  for 
friends." 

We  may  enter  this  as  a  "  red-letter  "  day — a  horse 
and  all  of  one  hundred  dollars  presented  to  a  young 
circuit-preacher!  Really,  if  many  an  old  conscien- 
tious brother  in  the  Conference  had  been  consulted 
he  would  have  entered  a  protest — "Too  much  for 
the  humility  of  a  young  brother!"  Friend  Bewley 
was  a  Greatheart.  In  my  recollection  the  "young 
brother,"  when  much  older,  served  many  years  for 
less,  and  yet  he  felt  in  debt  to  the  Church. 

We  close  this  paper  with  an  incident.  I  remem- 
ber the  sermons  of  the  old  preachers  abounded  in 
such  experiences: 

"Sep.  17,  1826.  I  attended  the  funeral  of  a  lady 
who  died  under  peculiar  circumstances.  Just  eight 
weeks  before  her  death  her  husband  attended  my 
appointment.  He  was  convicted  of  sin,  and  joined 
our  Church.  He  returned  home  the  same  evening, 
and  related  to  his  wife  all  the  circumstances  of  his 
conversion,  at  which  she  became  so  enraged  that 
she  stamped  and  swore  most  bitterly,  and  in  her 
rage  was  taken  with  a  strange  kind  of  fever.  She 
went  immediately  to  bed,  and  never  arose.  She 
was  sick  only  a  few  days.  A  Methodist  exhorter, 
who  lived  in  the  neighborhood,  came  to  the  house 
to  pray  for  her.  He  made  his  request  known  by 
telling  her  that  he  would  pray,  if  she  had  no  objec- 
tion, at  which  she  turned  upon  him  her  dying  eyes, 
filled  with  terror,  and  said,  'If  I  had  strength  I 
would  get  up  and  kill  you.'  She  cursed  and  swore, 
and,  with  bitter  curses  rolling  from  her  lips,  she 


62  MEETINGS   AND   INCIDENTS. 

closed  her  eyes  and  left  the  world.  Let  all  who 
hear  this  circumstance  be  taught  not  to  abuse  the 
mercies  of  God;  for  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind 
but  that  this. woman  was  suffering  some  of  the 
'  pangs  of  hell'  before  she  left  the  world." 

Man  may  dismiss  compassion  from  his  heart, 
But  God  will  never. 


16. 

CAMP-MEETINGS  AND  SOFORTH. 

|HEBE  are  various  reasons  why  the  camp- 
meeting  conducted  on  the  old  plan  must 
be  erelong  a  glorified  thing  of  the  past. 
This  is  not  a  matter  of  love  or  preference, 
but  of  destiny,  to  which  we  all  must  bow,  and  "  make 
the  most  of  it."  In  the  Southern  States  camp-meet- 
ings are,  and  have  been,  sustained  by  the  few,  as  to 
expense.  The  few  are  active  business  men,  whose 
time  is  more  fully  occupied  than  in  ante-bellum  days; 
they  have  not  the  slave  labor  and  excess  of  provis- 
ions. Labor,  provisions,  and  time  have  all  become 
valuable.  A  meeting  conducted  on  the  gratuitous 
plan  smacks  of  good-cheer  and  Southern  hospital- 
ity; but,  while  it  is  fun  to  the  multitude,  it  grinds 
exceeding  hard  on  the  generous  few.  I  am  satisfied 
that  the  Northern  hotel  plan  is  the  best.  There  are 
few  camp-meetings  now,  not  because  the  people  do 
not  like  them,  but  because  there  is  no  feasible  plan 
for  conducting  them.  We  have  furnished  these  ob- 
servations especially  for  the  benefit  of  a  class  of 
camp-meeting  loafers  (a  number  of  whom  remain 
to  this  present)  who  are  very  lugubrious  at  the  de- 
generacy of  the  times  caused  by  the  scarcity  of 

(63)    ' 


64  CAMP-MEETINGS    AND    SO-FORTII. 

camp-meetings,  but  really  (inter  nos)  because  the 
opportunity  is  denied  them  of  leaving  their  fami- 
lies at  home  on  short  allowance  and  gormandizing 
(themselves)  at  the  big  meetings.  I  have  heard  my 
father  often,  in  his  good-humored  way,  refer  to  these 
religious  whang -doodles,  who  infested  alike  camp- 
meetings  and  quarterly-meetings.  A  pen-portrait  of 
one,  under  the  cognomen  of  Benhadad,  is  furnished 
in  these  pages.  Let  us  return  to  the  Journal: 

"Sep.  28, 1826.  Our  camp-meeting  in  Hone}r-comb 
Valley  commenced  on  this  day,  and  continued  until 
October  2.  We  had  a  glorious  time,  considering 
the  place,  it  being  a  small  community.  About  thir- 
ty-five embraced  religion. 

"Oct.  2,  1826.  I  started  to  a  camp-meeting  at 
Winchester,  Tenn.  I  think  there  were  just  fifteen 
in  company,  several  of  whom  had  professed  religion 
in  Honey-comb.  When  we  were  about  three  miles 
on  the  way,  Brother  Harris  commenced  singing; 
and  being  very  warm  in  religion,  he  began  to  shout, 
after  which  several  others  joined  in,  which  contin- 
ued for  twelve  miles,  and  about  two  hours  and  a 
half.  I  was  fearful  that  a  number  of  young  horses 
would  take  fright;  but  it  appeared  that  the  good 
Lord  helped  them  to  sit  on  their  saddles,  for  they 
let  go  their  bridles,  clapped  their  hands,  and  made 
motions  that  made  their  horses  run  at  full  speed; 
but  not  one  of  them  was  hurt. 

"  The  people  living  along  the  way  were  wicked, 
and,  as  we  passed,  they  would  crowd  to  their  doors 
and  stare  a.t  us,  as  if  they  thought  we  were  deranged. 
After  riding  ten  miles  we  came  to  the  forks  of  the 


CAMP-MEETINGS   AND    SO-FORTH.  65 

road,  where  the  party  divided,  and  a  shout  went 
both  ways.  Such  expressions  of  power  I  have 
never  seen  before,  and  there  was  no  scoffing  among 
the  people.  One  wagon  refused  to  give  the  road; 
the  driver  and  those  in  the  wagon  seemed  not  to 
notice  us  at  all. 

'.'Oct.  5.  The  Rev.  Thomas  M.  King  and  I  started 
in  the  direction  of  the  camp-meeting.  We  rode 
four  miles,  and  attended  an,  appointment  of  Brother 
King's  on  the  way.  On  the  same  day  we  attended 
an  appointment  of  Brother  James  McFerrin's,  in 
Madison  county.  He  not  being  able  to  attend,  I 
preached,  and  Brother  King  exhorted. 

"Oct.  6.  We  rode  to  the  camp-meeting  known  as 
Farris's  Camp-ground.  It  so  happened  that  only 
one  preacher  was  there  besides  those  on  the  circuit. 
Brother  King  and  I  had  to  bear  the  greater  part  of 
the  burden. 

"Oct.  12.  We  rode  twelve  miles  to  our  District 
Conference,  which  was  held  near  Huntsville. 

"Oct.  23.  I  rested  in  the  morning,  and  rode  in  the 
afternoon  to  my  next  appointment  at  Father  Bran- 
don's, and  preached  the  funeral-sermon  of  a  young 
man  by  the  name  of  James  Gaddis,  about  twenty 
years  old.  I  never  saw  so  many  tears  shed  in  the 
same  length  of  time. 

"Oct.  27.  I  rode  through  a  heavy  rain  to  my  ap- 
pointment at  Ebenezer,  and  preached  two  sermons 
before  I  sat  down,  on  1  Peter  iv.  6,  and  1  Peter  iii. 
18,  19,  20.  These  sermons  I  preached  by  request 
of  the  Universalists;  and  I  heard  that  I  gave  some 
satisfaction  on  the  subject. 


66  CAMP-MEETINGS    AND    SO-FOKTH. 

"Nov.  4,  1826.    I  attcndi'd   an   appointment  at 
Brother  Parks's;   and  as  this  was  my  last  round, 
many  came  a  long  distance.     Among  them  was  an 
old  gentleman  well  known  as  a  persecutor  of  relig- 
ion, and  particularly  of  young  Methodist  preach- 
ers.   Seeing  him  in  the  crowd,  and  recollecting  that 
I  had  seen  him  before  at  my  appointments  four 
days  in  succession,  and  as  he  had  come  this  day 
about  ten  miles,  I  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  his 
design  was — whether  he  was  serious  on  the  subject 
of  religion,  or  was  following  me  up  to  hear  me 
preach  twice  on  the  same  subject,  in  order  to  laugh 
about  it  in  my  absence.    During  the  sermon  I  found 
he  was  serious;  and  I  was  much  pleased  to  find  him 
affected,  because  a  religious  person  could  have  no 
peace  where  he  was.    We  had  a  good  time,  and  the 
meeting  held  late.    After  service  the  old  gentleman 
seemed  slow  about  leaving.     After  the  people  were 
all  gone  he  still  staid;    about  sunset  he  observed 
that  he  must  go,  and  started  as  though  he  were 
going  to  leave,  when  he  took  me  by  the  hand  and 
said  he  wanted  a  word  with  me.    We  stepped  aside, 
and,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  said  that  he  was  an 
old  sinner,  and  I  must  not  fail  to  pray  for  him — 
that  he  had  a  large  family,  and  thought  he  ought 
to  hold  family-prayer,  and  that  he  did  not  know 
how  to  pray,  because  he  had  not  made  it  a  study, 
and  he  wanted  me  to  write  a  prayer  for  him.     I 
wrote  him  a  prayer,  as  near  as  I  knew  how,  and  then 
with  tears  he  bade  me  farewell.     I  heard  that  he 
went  home,  took  his  seat  by  the  fire,  and  remained 
sometime  silent.     At  length  he  asked  one  of  the 


CAMP-MEETINGS   AND    SO-FORTH.  67 

family  to  hand  him  Tom  Paine's  'Age  of  Reason.' 
He  took  the  book,  and  said,  'I  thank  God  that  I 
have  the  privilege  of  committing  you  to  the  flames,' 
and  threw  the  book  into  the  -fire.  I  understand 
that  he  is  now  a  serious  man,  and  conducting  fam- 
ily-worship." 

We  subjoin  the  form  of  prayer  referred  to  above: 

"1.  Speak  of  the  greatness  of  God  and  his  good- 
ness— that  it  is  from  him  we  receive  every  blessing 
— that  he  is  the  fountain  of  all  happiness. 

"2.  Speak  of  your  unworthiness — that  without 
spiritual  influence  you  can  do  no  good  thing. 

"  3.  Ask  forgiveness  for  past  sins,  and  that  you 
may  be  blessed  with  every  needed  grace. 

"  4.  Ask  God  to  bless  the  Church  and  the  world, 
and  that  his  word  may  be  received. 

"  5.  Pray  God  to  have  mercy  on  sinners — to  bring 
them  to  light,  and  to  comfort  the  penitent,  and  to 
give  them  knowledge  of  sins  forgiven. 

"  6.  Pray  God  to  bless  the  fatherless  and  widows 
— the  sick  and  all  those  in  distress. 

"7.  Ask  God  to  be  with  you  in  spirit  while  you 
live  in  this  world,  and  to  bring  you  down  to  your 
grave  in  peace,  and  save  you  in  heaven. 

"  Since  I  have  been  meditating  on  the  subject  of 
prayer,  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  if  you  will  get  the 
points  in  your  mind  for  which,  or  about  which,  men 
generally  pray,  it  will  be  of  more  service  than  this 
written  form." 

11  Nov.  10,  1826.  I  rode  six  miles,  and  met  a  good 
congregation.  Most  of  the  people  commenced  cry- 
ing as  soon  as  I  began  to  preach.  Daring  the  ser- 


68  CAMP-MEETINGS   AND    SO-FORTH. 

mon  I  was  overcome  with  tears,  and  had  to  stop, 
and  give  vent  to  my  feelings. 

"Nov.  11.  I  rode  after  night  six  miles,  and  preached 
the  best  I  could  to  a  large  congregation.  Here  I 
finished  the  labor  of  two  years.  Blessed  be  God 
that  I  can  leave  the  circuit  with  a  conscience  void 
of  offense  toward  God  and  man!  I  do  know  that 
my  feeble  exertions  have  been  blessed.  I  believe, 
if  I  never  meet  or  see  these  people  in  this  world 
again,  I  shall  meet  numbers  of  them  in  heaven;  for 
which  prospect  I  give  glory  to  Almighty  God." 

Between  the  close  of  his  regular  work  and  the 
Annual  Conference  he  is  actively  engaged  on  extra 
duty.  He  writes : 

"Nov.  14, 1826.  I  rode  to  my  mother's,  and  preached 
to  a  large  congregation.  I  remained  at  Bellefoute 
until  the  sixteenth." 

This  was  indeed  a  year  of  great  labor  and  trial. 
He  does  not  state  the  nature  of  his  physical  afflic- 
tion. We  think  it  probable  that  he  had  the  all- 
prevailing  disease  of  the  Tennessee  River  bottoms, 
chills  aud  fever.  His  pulpit  labors  were  increased 
by  a  very  vehement  delivery.  Upon  this  point  I 
quote  from  a  letter  of  the  Rev.  R.  K.  Brown,  of 
the  Tennessee  Conference:  "You  know  that  your 
father,  in  his  riper  years,  was  very  deliberate  in  his 
delivery;  and  yet,  I  remember,  he  said  to  me,  for 
my  comfort,  that  his  greatest  grief  in  his  earlier 
ministry  was  that  some  of  his  friends 'compared 
him  to  a  certain  old  Baptist  preacher,  whose  deliv- 
ery was  like  pouring  peas  on  a  rawhide."  I  have 
heard  my  father  refer  frequently  to  the  difficulty 


CAMP-MEETINGS   AND    SO-FORTII.  69 

he  had  in  toning  down  his  voice  and  gestures;  but 
there  are  reasons  sometimes  for  apparently  unrea- 
sonable things.  Persons  who  have  had  no  experi- 
ence in  public  speaking  cannot  appreciate  the  fact 
that  some  temperaments  require  considerable  phys- 
ical effort  to  warm  the  circulation  and  electrify  the 
brain,  when  the  brightest  thoughts  seem  to  be  the 
creations  of  nervous  fervor.  This  is  particularly 
the  case  with  young  preachers,  who,  like  young 
dogs,  run  the  best  on  a  warm  trail;  and  even  old 
preachers  are  sometimes  prosy  when  their  brains 
are  cool. 


17. 

MADISON  AND  LIMESTONE  CIKCUITS. 

jjHE   Rev.   Ambrose   F.   Driskill  was   ap- 
pointed by  the  Tennessee  Conference  of 
1826  as  the  senior  colleague  of  A.  L.  P. 
Green  on  the  Madison  Circuit.     For  some 
reason  they  did  not  labor  together. 

While  Mr.  Driskill  was  not  the  actual,  but  only 
the  official,  associate  of  my  father  in  his  public  min- 
istry, it  may  not  be  irrelevant  to  devote  a  short 
paragraph  to  the  memory  of  a  strong  preacher  and 
a  good  man. 

I  remember  Mr.  Driskill  as  a  Presiding  Elder. 
He  was  in  charge  of  the  .Nashville  District  when  I 
was  a  child.  He  impressed  me  as  a  man  who  had 
his  views  and  his  ways.  My  brother  and  I  stood 
around  and  looked  at  him.  He  carried  the  atmos- 
phere of  holiness  about  him.  He  was  a  Methodist 
in  usage  and  doctrine;  never  ran  on  any  of  the 
branches;  stuck  to  the  trunk-line.  I  heard  my 
father  remark  that  he  remembered  Mr.  Driskill  at 
an  early  day  as  the  most  tastefully-dressed  gentle- 
man in  the  Conference — not  foppish,  but  elegant,  in 
the  fit  and  neatness  of  his  apparel.  Mr.  Driskill 
joined  the  Tennessee  Conference  on  trial  in  1822, 
(70) 


MADISON    AND    LIMESTONE    CIRCUITS.  71 

and  died  while  in  charge  of  the  Madison  Circuit, 
North  Alabama  Conference,  in  1875. 

The  labors  of  the  second  year  are  finished,  and 
my  father  enters  in  his  diary: 

"Nov.  22,  1826.  I  started  with  Brother  Davidson 
for  the  Tennessee  Annual  Conference,  to  be  held  in 
Nashville,  Tennessee.^  On  our  way  we  staid  all  night 
with  Brothers  Steger,  Watkins,  McMahon,  Rows, 
Johnson,  and  the  Rev.  Thomas  D.  Porter.  We 
were  on  the  way  five  days  and  a  half;  we  reached 
Nashville  on  Monday.  Our  Conference  opened  on 
Tuesday,  November  28,  and  held  until  December  5. 
At  ten  o'clock  on  Tuesday  night  we  received  our 
appointments.  Brother  Ambrose  F.  Driskill  and 
I  were  read  out  to  the  Madison  Circuit,  and  on 
Wednesday,  December  6,  started  for  our  work.  We 
met  the  first  appointment  December  10.  Brother 
Driskill  preached.  On  the  same  day  I  understood 
that  I  had  been  removed  to  the  Limestone  Circuit." 

We  can  hardly  realize,  with  the  improved  trans- 
portation of  the  present  day,  that  a  member  of  the 
Tennessee  Conference  in  1826  spent  nearly  six  days 
in  traveling  from  Jackson  county,  Alabama,  to 
Nashville. 

On  the  morning  of  November  27,  1826,  A.  L.  P. 
Green  saw  his  future  home  for  the  first  time.  We 
should  like  to  know  what  were  his  impressions  of 
the  little  city  and  its  people;  but  no,  not  a  word  is 
written  —  not  even  the  name  of  the  family  with 
whom  he  staid.  He  could  not  be  returned  to  the 
Jackson  Circuit;  the  two-years'  pastorate  had  closed. 
Perhaps  the  all-absorbing  question,  Where  shall  I  be 


72  MADISON    AND    LIMESTONE    CIUCUITS. 

sent?  shut  out  every  thing  else.  He  says  nothing 
of  his  ordination  to  the  deaconship  by  Bishop  Soule; 
he  does  not  state  why  he  was  changed  from  the 
Madison  to  the  Limestone  Circuit  immediately  after 
the  Conference.  The  choicest  bits  he  throws,  with- 
out any  ceremony,  to  that  insatiable  gormand,  Ob- 
livion. But,  after  all,  if  we  had  it  all,  would  it  be 
possible  to  write  a  history  at  all?  I  think,  Not  at 
all!  The  Rev.  James  McFerrin  was  the  senior 
preacher  on  the  Limestone  Circuit.  He  and  Mr. 
Green  had  spent  a  delightful  year  together  on  the 
Jackson  Circuit.  Mr.  McFerrin  must  have  his 
youthful  associate  again.  The  change  was  a  re- 
newal of  a  pleasant  association,  agreeable  to  both 
parties.  There  would  certainly  have  been  no  want 
of  affinity  between  Messrs.  Driskill  and  Green,  who 
were  warm,  devoted  friends  all  their  lives.  He 
makes  the  first  entry  in  his  diary: 

'•'•Dec.  12,  1826.  I  rode  twelve  miles,  and  attended 
an  appointment  at  Nubbin  Ridge,  which  was  the 
first  appointment  of  mine  on  the  Limestone  Circuit. 
Brother  John  B.  McFerrin  preached  a  very  good 
sermon."  [Mr.  McFerrin  was  junior  preacher  on 
the  Lawrence  Circuit,  with  the  Rev.  Alexander 
Sale.] 

"Dec.  18,  1826.  I  attended  an  appointment  at 
Triana.  The  day  was  rainy,  congregation  small, 
and  meeting  very  cold." 

I  subjoin  a  poem,  which  he  dedicated  to  the  peo- 
ple of  Triana.  It  is  just  a  little  sally  of  humor, 
and  gave  no  offense  at  the  time.  Indeed,  the  present 
Trianians  have  no  part  or  parcel  in  it: 


MADISON    AND    LIMESTONE    CIRCUITS.  73 

A  POEM  FOR  THE  PEOPLE  OF  TRIANA. 

As  I  was  on  my  horse,  and  bound 

To  places  strange  and  new — 
Indeed,  it  being  my  first  round, 

And  scarcely  knowing  what  to  do — 

So  curious  was  I  for  to  know 

Where  sin  did  most  abound, 
Where  there  was  an  excess  of  woe, 

To  find  which  I  went  round  and  round. 

At  length  I  to  Triana  came, 
Where  men  and  sinners  are  the  same; 
In  wickedness  of  every  kind 
They  are  by  practice  all  combined. 

I  cannot  say  what  they  do  mean; 
In  vice  they  're  fat,  in  virtue  lean; 
And  if  they  do  not  soon  repent, 
They  '11  be  from  God  and  mercy  sent. 

Now,  Mac,  I  would  just  let  you  know 
Religion  there's  in  the  back  row; 
The  meeting-house  I  found  quite  empty, 
But  in  the  streets  were  people  plenty. 

It  was  near  on  to  twelve,  I  thought, 
When  to  the  meeting-house  I  got, 
And  I  was  sorely  grieved  to  find 
No  pulpit  there,  nor  seats,  nor  stand. 

And  0,  my  brother!  that's  not  all: 
They  made  the  church  a  Mason's  hall; 
And  yet  still  more  I  hear  about  it: 
They  say  they'll  make  a  school-house  of  it! 

And  when  you  preach  there,  all  will  say 
They  did  not  know  that  was  the  day ! 
They'll  stay  away  without  remorse, 
And  flock  in  crowds  to  hear  old  Moss. 


74  MADISON    AND    LIMKSTONK    CHUTITS. 

So,  brother,  you  must  scold  them  well, 
And  tell  them  they  are  jioing  to  hell! 
Toll  them,  "Indeed  Triana  town 
Need  not  on  Methodism  frown." 

Shall  it  be  told  in  this  our  day, 
"Triana  would  not  let  you  stay?" 
No;  Satan's  power,  and  theirs  together, 
Cannot  our  Methodism  letter. 

But  we  will  keep  our  heads  well  clear 
Of  their  strange  blood,  and  we  will  bear 
Tidings  of  life  and  full  salvation 
To  such  as  want  to  get  to  heaven. 

He  adds:  "I  wrote  these  lines  to  send  in  a  letter 
to  Brother  James  McFerrin,  for  the  Trianians  are 
very  careless  about  religion."  This  is  a  boy's  poem 
— perhaps  the  first  our  young  preacher  ever  wrote. 
The  reader  must  allow  a  broad  poetic  license.  This 
is  fun — that  is  all — at  the  expense  of  Triana,  where 
many  good  Christians  have  lived  and  do  live. 

The  Limestone  Circuit  was  a  four-weeks'  appoint- 
ment. The  following,  as  near  as  I  can  gather  from 
the  diary,  were  the  names  of  the  preaching-places: 
Nubbin  Ridge,  Jordan's,  Beech  Grove,  Siloam,  Mt. 
Sharon,  Huley,  Cambridge,  Poplar  Grove,  Pettus's, 
Mt.  Zion,  Maysville,  Mother  McGehee's,  Bethle- 
hem, Hanley's,  Athens,  Dogwood  Flat,  Davidson's, 
Mooresville,  Hebron,  Hopewell,  Triana,  Cotton 
Port,  Bethel,  Malone's,  English's,  Collier's,  Jack- 
son's, Beech  Grove,  and  Hundley's.  Here  we  have 
twenty-nine  appointments  to  be  filled  in  four  weeks, 
by  preaching  twice  on  Sunday. 

We  turn  over  the  pafres  of  tlie  diary,  nothing  of 


MADISON   AND   LIMESTONE   CIRCUITS.  75 

special  interest  occurring  until  January  30,  1827. 
At  this  date  he  received  a  letter  from  a  boy-preacher 
on  the  Lawrence  Circuit,  which  I  will  take  the  lib- 
erty to  insert: 

"MORGAX  COUNTY,  ALABAMA,  Jan.  27,  1827. 

"B.EV.  SIR: — Once  more  I  embrace  an  opportunity 
of  writing  to  you  a  few  lines,  merely  as  a  compli- 
ment. I  went  to  the  office  on  my  last  round,  and 
recei\7ed  a  letter  that  you  wrote.  You  told  me  that 
I  might  write  when  I  had  something  good,  which 
seemed  to  insinuate  that  you  were  indifferent  about 
it;  but  as  we  are  told  to  'render  good  for  evil,'  I 
determined  to  write  when  opportunity  offers — that 
is,  when  I  can  get  pen,  ink,  and  paper  plenty. 

"I  have  been  round  my  circuit,  and  am  pretty 
near  round  again.  I  can,  indeed  and  in  truth,  say 
that  this  circuit  is  very  much  deranged.  Our  first 
quarterly -meeting  is  over,  and  Brother  Davidson 
can  tell  you  all  about  it. 

"I  am  very  well  in  body,  and  enjoy  some  of  the 
'life  and  power  of  religion;'  but  how  unfaithful 
I  have  been!  Pray  for  me,  that  I  may  be  more 
holy. 

"I  have  read,  since  I  saw  yon,  'Paley's  Philoso- 
phy,' 'Sulleu's  Arguments,'  'Ballar's  Grammar  of 
Nature,'  'Natural  Philosophy,'  the  Gospels,  the 
three  first  books  of  the  Pentateuch,  besides  some 
sermons,  some  narratives,  some  newspapers,  and 
some  other  little  things.  You  may  say  that  this  is 
but  little;  but  recollect  the  season  has  been  cold.  I 
hope  to  mend  my  ways. 

"Rev.  Sir,  you  will  do  well,  I  hope,  and  succeed 


76  MADISON    AND    LIMESTONE    CIRCUITS. 

wherever  you  go.     I  shall  close  by  subscribing  my- 
self your  unworthy  friend,         J.  B. 


Dr.  McFerrin  may  well  be  proud  of  this  letter,  for 
it  shows  him  an  active  student.  Mr.  Green  certainly 
prized  it  very  much,  as  he  copied  it  into  his  diary. 
Other  letters  from  friends  on  the  Jackson  Circuit  are 
preserved,  but  are  wanting  in  general  interest;  and, 
like  a  good-hearted,  prosy  professor  dismissing  his 
class  before  bell-tap,  we  extend  a  gracious  release  to 
the  reader. 

Do  you  like  letter-reading?    If  you  do, 

I  have  some  twenty  dozen  very  pretty  ones  — 

Gay,  sober,  rapturous,  solemn,  very  true, 

And  very  lying,  stupid  ones,  and  witty  ones. 


IB. 
LETTERS,  SICKNESS,  AND  CAMP-MEETINGS. 

jN  old  lady  in  Kentucky  said  that  she  liked 
to  hear  a  certain  preacher,  because  there 
was  so  much  in  his  sermons  that  was  not 
gospel.  I  was  reproved  myself  by  a  little 
girl,  who  said  that  my  sermon  was  not  in  the  Bible. 
For  reasons  just  the  reverse,  I  am  going  to  insert  a 
letter,  because  it  has  in  it  so  much  of  the  spirit  of 
the  gospel,  and  is  a  word-picture  of  an  old  Chris- 
tian-perfection, class-meeting  Methodist: 

"  BELLEFONTE,  Jan.  19,  1827. 

"REV.  A.  L.  P.  GREEN — Dear  Brother: — I  write  to 
inform  you  that  I  am  in  pretty  good  health,  for 
which  I  thank  the  good  Lord.  I  received  your 
friendly  letter  some  little  time  since,  for  which  I  am 
thankful,  and  I  hope  you  will  continue  to  write. 
My  dear  brother,  I  love  you,  and  I  hope  you  will 
have  good  times.  In  this  part  of  the  country  times 
are  dull;  but  I  feel  myself,  let  others  do  as  they 
may,  I  will  serve  God,  and,  by  his  helping  hand, 
make  my  way  to  heaven.  We  had  a  prayer-meet- 
ing in  town  last  night,  and  the  Lord  was  with  us, 
and  many  appeared  to  be  happy ;  and  as  for  my  own 
feelings,  they  were  better  than  tongue  can  express, 

(77) 


78  LETTERS,    SICKNESS,    AND   CAMP-MEETINGS. 

'for  which  I  thank  the  good  Lord.  We  have  but 
one  preacher,  and  he  is  a  good  one — old  Father 
Davidson.  I  have  had  hard  times  since  I  saw  you, 
and  many  things  have  disturbed  my  mind;  but 
when  troubles  assail,  I  can  turn  to  the  Lord,  who 
blesses  my  soul.  We  have  three  prayer-meetings 
in  the  week.  I  am  glad  that  while  some  people 
turn  out  badly  there  are  so  many  who  do  well.  My 
dear  brother,  I  want  you  to  pray  for  me,  that  I  may 
-be  enabled  to  overcome  all  my  difficulties,  and  be 
instrumental  in  doing  some  good  in  this  wicked 
town ;  and,  my  brother,  if  we  should  never  meet  in 
this  world,  I  hope  we  shall  meet  in  a  better,  for 
which  I  do  pray  in  secret  places.  I  remain  your 
friend  and  brother,  MC^AIRY  HARRIS." 

We  select  one  other,  of  the  same  spirit: 

"  FRANKUX  COUNTY,  TENNESSEE,  January,  1827. 

"  MY  VERY  DEAR  BROTHER  GREEN: — With  pleasure 
I  embrace  this  opportunity  of  writing  to  you.  My 
health  is  good,  for  which  I  am  thankful  to  Almighty 
God.  In  regard  to  my  religion  I  can  say  this  much, 
that  I  feel  bound  for  heaven,  and  I  do  thank  the 
Lord  for  the  desires  I  have  to  serve  him.  Religion 
in  this  neighborhood  is  at  a  low  ebb.  May  the  Lord 
heal  all  our  backslidings!  Brother  Davidson  was 
well  last  night,  for  we  staid  together  at  Brother 
Alexander's.  Brother  Brown  is  gone,  and  Brother 
Davidson  is  well  received  indeed  on  the  circuit;  and 
I  am  in  hopes  the  Lord  will  revive  this  work  this 
year.  I  have  a  request  to  make  of  you,  and  that 
is,  you  will  pray  for  me.  I  assure  you  that  I  have 


LETTERS,    SICKNESS,    AND    CAMP-MEETINGS.  79 

not  forgotten  yon.  When  you  have  not  better 
employment  write  to  me.  May  mercy,  goodness, 
and  prosperity  attend  you  all  the  days  of  your  life! 
Fraternally,  JOSHUA  CLARKE." 

These  letters  are  emphatically  in  the  benediction 
style;  there  is  about  them  a  halo  of  the  long  ago. 
Like  pressed  flowers  that  drop  from  an  old  volume, 
they  speak  of  an  unknown  love  and  a  gentle  hand. 
We  have  selected  them  only  because  they  are  heart- 
classics.  They  have  the  same  platitudes  that  weary 
some  original,  smart  people;  and  yet,  if  the  angels 
were  to  go  round  searching  old  drawers  and  trunks 
for  specimen  letters  to  show  at  the  millennium,  I 
would  confidently  hand  them  these  after  they  had 
refused  the  letters  of  Greyson  and  Lord  Chester- 
field. They  have  the  odor  of  precious  ointment.  I 
throw  many  letters  away  because  I  know  them  not, 
and  they  know  not  me.  I  have  letters,  old  and 
faded,  that  I  love;  they  have  been  touched  with  the 
honey  end  of  Jonathan's  rod,  and  they  have  grafts 
from  Aaron's  rod  of  immortal  buds,  that  will  blos- 
som when  principalities  and  powers  have  hasted 
away.  These  are  the  names  of  my  father's  friends; 
these  are  the  meu  who  sharpened  the  lance  that 
Achilles  threw. 

We  return  to  the  diary: 

" Feb.  11,  1827.  I  attended  an  appointment  in 
Triana,  and  met  a  large  congregation.  I  preached 
a  tolerably  long  sermon,  and  we  had  a  profitable 
time;  for  the  people  wept  much,  and  among  those 
who  wept  I  observed  a  young  man*  who  was  dressed 


80  LETTERS,    SICKNESS,    AND    CAMP-MEETINGS. 

like  a  dandy.  When  the  meeting  was  over  he  came 
up  and  told  me  that  he  wanted  me  to  pray  for  him 
every  day  until  my  return,  when  he  expected  to  join 
the  Church. 

"Feb.  25.  I  encountered  a  terrific  storm.  I  was 
among  the  hills  of  Elk  River,  and  as  I  was  traveling 
with  my  back  on  the  cloud,  was  not  apprised  of  its 
approach  until  nearly  overtaken.  The  lightning 
began  to  play,  and  the  thunder  burst,  peal  after 
peal,  with  such  awful  power  that  the  hills  appeared 
to  tremble.  I  now  began  to  think  it  was  time  to 
seek  for  shelter.  The  roaring  of  thunder  and  fall- 
ing of  trees  so  alarmed  my  horse  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  I  could  hold  him.  I  concluded  to  let  him 
go,  arid  kept  him  reined  to  the  road.  I  ran  him 
about  one-half  of  a  mile,  and  came  in  sight  of  a 
house.  A  man  standing  in  the  door  saw  me  com- 
ing, and  threw  open  the  gate;  but  he  could  scarcely 
hold  my  frightened  horse  till  I  dismounted.  I 
thank  God  I  sustained  no  injury. 

"Feb.  27.  I  preached  at  Brother  Hundley's,  and 
we  had  a  glorious  time,  indeed.  Seven  or  eight 
persons  came  up  for  prayer,  and  the  strength  of 
the  Christians  was  renewed. 

"March  11.  I  met  a  good  congregation  in  Triana. 
The  young  man  who  promised  to  meet  me  four 
weeks  before  was  present,  and  joined  the  Church; 
there  was  great  solemnity. 

"March  16.  I  rode  twelve  miles,  and  preached  at 
Cambridge.  Brother  James  McFerrin  was  present, 
and  preached  also.  We  held  class -meeting.  At 
night  we  held  meeting  at  Brother  George  Malone's. 


LETTERS,    SICKNESS,    AND   CAMP-MEETINGS.  81 

A  brother  from  Tennessee  preached  a  very  good 
sermon.  I  followed  him  in  an  exhortation,  and 
called  for  penitents.  Seven  came  forward,  and  four 
found  God  in  the  pardon  of  their  sins. 

"March  19.  I  met  a  good  congregation  on  Poplar 
Creek,  and  preached  on  the  scripture,  '  The  wicked 
is  driven  away  in  his  wickedness.'  After  the  sermon 
fifteen  or  sixteen  penitents  came  forward.  I  ap- 
pointed a  meeting  at  night  at  Brother  Yarbrough's. 
We  had  a  crowded  house,  and  I  preached  ninety 
minutes.  At  the  close  of  my  discourse  there  was  a 
general  weeping  and  shouting  all  over  the  house. 
There  was  a  large  man  standing  in  the  door,  whom 
I  saw  weeping  and  paying  very  close  attention.  At 
last  he  fell  full-length  on  the  floor,  and  cried  for 
mercy.  When  I  called  for  mourners  between  thirty 
and  forty  came  forward.  There  was  not  a  single 
person  in  the  house  who  prayed  in  public.  I  labored 
with  the  mourners  until  exhausted. 

"March  20.  I  preached  to  a  few  at  English's.  At 
night  we  held  a  meeting  at  Brother  Hogan's,  near 
Cambridge,  and  Brother  John  B.  McFerrin  preached 
and  I  exhorted.  We  called  for  mourners;  five  were 
converted. 

"April  8.  I  attended  a  meeting  at  Triana;  there 
was  a  large  attendance.  There  I  conducted  the  first 
class-meeting  ever  held  in  that  place. 

"April  13.  Brothers  James  McFerrin  and  Booth 
Malone,  and  I,  went  to  our  quarterly  -  meeting. 
Brother  Malone  preached  the  first  sermon,  and 
Brother  McFerrin  exhorted.  The  sacrament  of 
the  Lord's  Supper  was  administered  on  Sunday  at 
4* 


82  LETTERS,   SICKNESS,    AND    CAMl'-MKKTLXGS. 

ten  o'clock.  At  eleven  o'clock  Brother  McMahon 
preached,  ami  there  were  many  tears.  In  the  after- 
noon I  attempted  to  preach.  We  had  some  mourn- 
ers, and  joined  two  into  Society. 

11  June  21.  I  attended  a  camp-meeting,  where  about 
thirty  persons  embraced  religion. 

11 July  5.  Brother  James  McFerrin  and  I  attended 
a  camp-meeting  at  Ford's  Chapel,  and  continued  to 
its  close. 

"July  10.  Brother  McMahon  and  I  rode  to  Mt. 
Air,  in  Tennessee,  where  Brother  M.  solemnized  the 
rite  of  matrimony  between  a  Mr.  Coats  and  a  Miss 
Die.  The  next  day  we  rode  to  Huntsville,  and  spent 
the  night  with  Brother  Brandon,  and  on  the  next 
day  attended  another  wedding. 

"July  13.  I  attended  the  camp -meeting  at  Bell 
Spring. 

"July  19.  I  preached  in  Athens,  and  rode  to  a 
camp-meeting  at  Round  Island,  where  about  twen- 
ty-five persons  embraced  religion. 

"July  25.  I  attempted  to  preach  at  Pettus's,  but 
had  to  stop  on  account  of  sickness.  Brother  Malone 
happened  in,  and  preached  for  me. 

"July  27.  I  rode  to  Huntsville,  and  got  Brother 
Craig  to  fill  my  appointments  for  me.  I  remained 
in  Huntsville  upward  of  two  weeks,  to  regain  my 
strength.  During  my  stay  I  preached  five  times  in 
town  and  twice  in  the  country.  [Rest  with  a  wit- 
ness !] 

"Aug.  22.  I  preached  at  Pettus's  on  the  passage, 
'God  so  loved  the  world,'  etc.  This  was  the  same 
text  that  I  took  here  before,  but  was  not  able  to 


LETTERS,    SICKNESS,    AND    CAMP-MEETINGS.  83 

finish;  neither  was  I  able  to  finish  it  this  time,  but 
concluded  my  remarks  on  the  next  round. 

"Aug.  23.  Brother  Malone  and  I  rode  to  a  camp- 
meeting,  and  after  the  meeting  broke  Brothers 
James  McFerrin  and  Joshua  Boucher,  and  I,  rode 
to  an  appointment  at  Brother  Hundley's.  Brother 
Boucher  preached,  and  we  had  tolerable  feeling 
times. 

"Sep.  5.  I  preached  at  Colyar's;  we  had  several 
mourners.  ''From  there  I  rode  to  a  camp-meeting 
near  Tuscurnbia,  at  which  I  preached  three  times. 

"Sep.  14.  I  met  a  small  congregation  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  preached  a  short  sermon.  The  same 
day  I  went  to  see  a  sick  child,  and  found  it  dying. 
At  half-past  eight  it  left  the  world.  As  there  was 
no  one  to  watch,  I  sat  up  with  it.  Without  any 
sleep  I  had  to  ride  eight  miles,  and  was  very  feeble 
when  I  reached  my  appointment.  Notwithstand- 
ing my  weakness,  I  had  to  preach,  as  the  local 
brother  whom  I  had  engaged  failed  to  attend.  In 
the  afternoon  I  rode  eight  miles,  and  preached  the 
funeral-sermon  of  a  son  of  Elijah  Hogan,  which 
service  closed  near  sunset.  I  then  rode  eight  miles 
to  my  next  appointment,  that  night,  in  Athens. 

"Sep.  16.  "We  had  a  large  congregation  in  Athens. 
Brother  Hundley  preached,  at  eleven  o'clock,  a  very 
warm  and  energetic  sermon.  At  twelve  (noon)  I 
preached  the  funeral-sermon  of  a  son  of  Brother 
Gamble,  during  which  service  there  were  many 
tears,  and  at  the  close  I  joined  a  number  into  Society. 

"Sep.  20.  Our  camp-meeting  at  Cambridge  com- 
menced, and  twenty  joined  the  Church. 


84  LETTERS,   SICKNESS,    AND   CAMP-MEETINGS. 

"Sep.  27.  I  went  to  a  camp-meeting  on  Madison 
Circuit,  where  about  thirty  persons  embraced  re- 
ligion. 

"Oct.  2.  Father  Thompson  and  I  rode  to  my 
mother's,  in  Jackson  county,  near  Gunter's  Land- 
ing. On  the  next  night  Brother*  Hunter,  mother, 
and  I,  had  a  happy  time. 

"Oct.  4.  We  rode  to  Bellefonte  camp-meeting,  at 
which  we  had  good  and  great  times.  I  preached 
four  times.  [This  camp-ground  was  on  the  farm 
owned  by  the  Rev.  James  McFerrin.] 

"Oct.  18.  Our  camp -meeting  at  JSTubbiri  Ridge 
commenced,  which  was  also  the  occasion  of  our 
District  Conference.  Thirty  professed,  and  twenty 
joined  the  Church. 

"Nov.  19.  I  preached  to  a  small  congregation  at 
Father  Moore's;  and  on  this  day  we  finished  our 
year's  labor,  in  which  I  preached  two  hundred  and 
fifty  times.  Brother  McFerrin  and  I  received  two 
hundred  and  thirty-five  into  the  Church,  and  turned 

out  twenty." 

To  hallowed  duty, 
Here  with  a  loyal  and  heroic  heart, 
Bind  we  our  lives. 


19. 
SECOND  YEAR  ON  THE  LIMESTONE  CIRCUIT. 

SUMPTUOUS  diDner,  while  it  has  much 
that  is  alluring  to  a  hungry  man,  has 
some  features,  apparent  and  latent,  that 
detract:  the  excess,  the  tedionsness,  the 
hospitality  administered  with  "a  vengeance,"  the 
lassitude  and  headache  that  follow.  That  is  a  good 
aphorism  for  a  dining,  "Remember  your  head  in 
the  morning."  But,  after  all,  there  is  some  repub- 
licanism even  in  a  wholesale  dinner.  No  man,  what- 
ever his  appetite  or  capacity,  is  required  to  sample 
every  dish.  It  is  pardonable,  even  at  the  tables  of 
the  most  elite,  for  the  humblest  consumer  to  say, 
"No,  I  thank  yon."  How  much  a  restless  man 
would  enjoy  the  privilege  of  standing  around  be- 
tween the  courses!  But  I  intended  this  as  the  in- 
troduction to  something  entirely  different,  which  is: 
If  the  reader  is  a  non-religionist,  and  has  grown 
weary  of  the  Church-ring  of  the  diary,  he  or  she  is 
not  forced,  by  any  law  of  humanity  or  politeness, 
to  partake,  only  so  far,  and  in  kind,  as  suits  his  or 
her  taste.  We  begin,  as  near  as  we  can,  where  we 
left  off: 

"Nov.  21,  1827.  Brothers  James  McFerrin,  Bar- 

(85) 


86  SECOND    YEAR   ON    THE    LIMESTONE    CIRCUIT. 

ton  Brown,  T.  M.  King,  A.  F.  Driskill,  and  8.  Gilli- 
laml.  ;uid  I,  started  to  our  Annual  Conference,  in 
Tuscumbia,  Alabama. 

"Nov.  22,  1827.  We  reached  Tuscumbia,  and  the 
Conference  convened  the  next  day,  and  held  till 
November  30.  On  account  of  a  petition  from  the 
Limestone  Circuit,  I  was  returned,  and  Brother 
Joshua  Boucher  was  appointed  to  travel  with  me." 

Bishop  Soule  presided  at  this  Conference.  Will- 
iam McMahon  was  returned  to  the  Huntsville  Dis- 
trict as  Presiding  Elder.  Joshua  Boucher,  the  senior 
colleague  of  my  father,  though  dead  for  many  years, 
is  still  fresh  in  the  Methodist  memories  of  North 
Alabama.  He  is  represented  as  an  oft-hand  stump- 
preacher  of  remarkable  fluency  and  power.  A  few 
years  before  his  death  a  friend — Dr.  T.  S.  Malone — 
remarking  his  self-possession  in  the  pulpit,  observed, 
"Brother  Boucher,  I  suppose  you  are  never  embar- 
rassed in  preaching."  He  replied,  "Old  Boucher's 
knees  always  tremble  when  he  ascends  the  pulpit." 
Dr.  McFerrin,  his  intimate  friend,  says  ("Method- 
ism in  Tennessee"):  "Joshua  Butcher — more  prop- 
erly, Boucher — was  admitted  on  trial  this  year  (1813). 
In  the  morning  of  life  he  was  gay  and  full  of  pleas- 
ure. He  was  a  fine  musician,  and  performed  on 
the  violin  to  perfection.  His  society  was  coveted 
because  of  his  high  social  qualities.  His  education 
was  very  deficient,  but  his  mind  sprightly,  and  his 
capacity  for  improvement  great.  He  was  licensed 
to  preach  in  1811.  In  1845  he  closed  his  labors, 
dying  at  Athens,  Alabama,  August  23." 

We  have  selected   from  the  diarv  of  this  vear 


SECOND   YEAR   ON   THE   LIMESTONE   CIRCUIT.          87 

only  about  two  per  cent,  of  the  entries.     We  begin 
again : 

'•'•Dec.  16,  1827.  I  preached  two  hours  at  Nubbin 
Ridge  to  a  large  congregation,  and  there  was  con- 
siderable feeling.  At  four  o'clock  I  preached  to  the 
blacks,  and  many  of  them  came  forward  for  prayer. 

"Dec.  25,  1827.  (Christmas-day.)  I  preached  at 
Liberty,  on  Poplar  Creek,  and  that  evening  went  to 
the  marriage  of  a  Mr.  David  and  Miss  Jane  D.  Keys. 

"March  24,  1828.  I  preached  at  Jordan's.  There 
were  eight  or  ten  mourners,  and  quite  a  stir  in  the 
congregation. 

"March  26,  1828.  I  preached  to  a  good  congre- 
gation at  Hundley's.  "We  had  four  mourners  and 
good  times. 

"April  2,  1828.  I  did  not  attend  my  appointment 
at  Triana,  as  I  had  to  meet  with  the  delegates  of 
the  Conference  to  transact  some  important  business. 

"April  12, 1828.  I  preached  at  Round  Island,  and 
from  this  time  till  August  7th  I  continued  on  my 
circuit,  doing  just  the  regular  work. 

"Aug.  7,  1828.  Our  camp-meeting  at  Cambridge 
commenced.  We  had  a  good  and  great  time. 
Sixty-three  embraced  religion,  and  fifty  joined  the 
Church.  After  this  meeting  I  attended  a  camp- 
meeting  held  in  Morgan  county,  at  which  fifty  em- 
braced religion,  and  about  the  same  number  joined 
the  Church.  During  these  meetings  I  labored  much, 
was  exposed  a  great  deal,  and  in  consequence  was 
taken  sick — at  first  apparently  with  cold  and  a  vio- 
lent cough  and  sore  throat,  which  lasted  for  sev- 
eral days.  At  last  I  suffered  with  nausea,  and  my 


88          SECOND   YEAR  ON   THE    LIMESTONE   CIRCUIT. 

eyes  and  skin  became  affected.  I  was  golden-yel- 
low all  over.  This  is  now  the  twelfth  day,  and  I 
am  still  sick  with  yellow-jaundice,  which  is  not 
very  easy  to  get  rid  of. 

"I  find  that  religion  is  our  only  trust  in  hours  of 
affliction.  Yes,  what  is  all  the  world  without  God? 
It  is  a  void,  a  blank,  an  unlettered  scroll." 

They  talk  of  short-lived  pleasure — be  it  so — 
Pain  dies  as  quickly;  stern,  hard-featured  Pain 

Expires,  and  lets  her  weary  prisoner  go. 
The  fiercest  agonies  have  shortest  reign. 


2O. 

THE  MADISON — His  LAST  CIRCUIT. 

[HE  Tennessee  Conference  convened  in 
Murfreesboro,  December  4, 1828.  Bishop 
Soule  presided.  The  class  of  fourteen 
which  joined  ou  trial  in  1824  is  reduced 
one-half.  Seven  of  the  original  class  are  elected 
and  ordained  elders :  J.  B.  Summers,  G.  "W.  D. 
Harris,  Thos.  P.  Davidson,  Richard  H.  Hudson, 
A.  L.  P.  Green,  Samuel  R.  Davidson,  and  Michael 
Berry.  Thomas  Payne  was  ordained,  but  was  a 
deacon  when  admitted  in  1826.  William  McMahon 
is  continued  in  the  presiding  eldership.  A.  L.  P. 
Green,  preacher  in  charge,  and  Greenville  T.  Hen- 
derson, junior  preacher,  are  appointed  to  the  Mad- 
ison Circuit,  Huntsville  District.  This  was  my  fa- 
ther's last  circuit,  and  we  infer,  from  the  few  and 
hastily-written  entries  in  his  diary,  that  it  was  a 
year  of  great  labor.  Indeed,  as  the  years  sped  on 
and  his  capacity  increased,  his  labors  grew.  All 
that  he  read  and  all  that  he  did  had  reference  to 
his  preacher- work.  I  remarked  once  in  his  hearing 
that  I  was  going  to  read  a  certain  book.  He  said, 
"Do  you  think  you  can  get  any  thing  out  of  it  that 
will  be  of  service  to  you  in  preaching?" 

(89) 


90  THE    MADISON  —  IIFS    LAST    (  111CU1T. 

The  Rev.  Greenville  T.  Henderson  was  admitted 
on  trial  into  the  Tennessee  Conference  in  1825. 
Dr.  J.  B.  McFerrin  was  a  member  of  his  class. 
For  a  number  of  years  Mr.  Henderson  Avas  in  the 
local  ranks,  and  displayed  a  great  deal  of  energy 
and  spirit  in  his  secular  undertakings.  He  is  now 
a  live  member  of  the  Conference — goes  up  every 
year  to  receive  his  "patch,"  my  father's  name  for 
an  old  man's  appointment.  He  preaches  with  great 
power,  and  is  especially  formidable  when  pitted 
against  an  immersionist.  However,  he  delights 
more  in  peace  than  in  war — never  invites  a  con- 
troversy or  accepts  a  challenge,  except  when  there 
is  an  urgent  necessity.  He  contends  for  the  faith — 
not  for  his  own  glory — but  the  good  of  the  cause. 
My  father  always  kept  a  warm  place  in  his  heart 
for  G.  T.  Henderson. 

We  copy  only  a  few  entries  from  the  time-worn 
diar}* : 

"Jan.  1,  1829.  I  reached  my  appointment  at 
Mount  Carmel.  Brother  Henderson  was  two  weeks 
in  advance  of  me  on  the  circuit.  I  attended  my 
appointments  faithfully,  but  in  some  places  found 
no  congregations.  The  work  was  in  a  distracted 
condition,  but  we  went  on  and  did  what  we  could 
until  we  met,  which  was  at  our  first  quarterly-meet- 
ing, held  at  Mount  Pisgah,  February  6,  7.  This 
meeting  was  well  attended.  It  was  said  that  we 
had  more  people  out  on  Saturday  than  for  years 
before  at  that  place.  On  Sunday  Brother  McMahon 
administered  the  sacrament,  and  Brother  Hender- 
son prcai-hed. 


THE   MADISON — HIS   LAST   CIRCUIT.  91 

"Feb.  15.  I  preached  to  a  good  congregation  at 
Ford's  Chapel. 

"Feb.  16.  I  visited  Mr.  John  Hancock,  who  had 
been  sick  for  two  years,  and  was  without  religion. 
I  remained  with  him  until  he  was  converted." 

He  furnishes  a  long  account  of  the  sickness  and 
triumphant  death  of  John  Hancock — also,  a  sum- 
mary of  the  year's  work.  He  states:  "Brother 
Henderson  and  I  had  much  peace  this  year.  We 
had  five  camp-meetings  in  the  work.  We  received 
into  the  Church  about  four  hundred  persons." 

Mr.  Henderson,  from  recollections  of  this  year's 
work,  furnishes  a  story  in  substance  as  follows : 
There  lived  in  the  bounds  of  the  Madison  Circuit 
an  eccentric  man  by  the  name  of  Oldham  [not  his 
real  name],  who  made  it  his  pleasure  to  try  the 
preachers  (particularly  the  young  preachers),  when 
they  first  came  on  the  work,  with  curious  scriptural 
questions  which  neither  he  nor  any  one  else  could 
answer.  He  was  no  skeptic,  and  professed  to  be- 
lieve in  the  literal  E?ing  James's  Version.  His  house 
was  a  favorite  stopping-place  of  the  itinerant.  Hear- 
ing that  a  new  preacher  was  on  the  circuit,  Mr.  Old- 
ham  prepared  his  battery  of  questions.  Mr.  Green 
was  informed  in  advance,  and  prepared  his  defense. 
He  determined  that,  instead  of  answering,  he  would 
question  "a  fool  according  to  his  folly."  On  his 
first  round  he  found  it  convenient  to  spend  the  night 
with  Oldham.  Quite  a  company  of  the  neighbors 
had  gathered  in  to  make  welcome  the  new  preacher. 
It  was  an  opportunity  that  must  be  improved, 
thought  Oldham — it  was  expected  of  him.  After 


!>2  THE   MADISON — HIS   LAST   CIRCUIT. 

supper  0.  made  some  moves  as  though  he  were 
going  to  begin  the  examination.  G.,  anticipating 
him,  said,  in  a  slow,  measured  voice,  "Brother  Old- 
ham,  do  you  helieve  the  Scriptures?"  "Certainly," 
said  0.;  "why  do  you  ask  such  a  question?"  "Be- 
cause," answered  G.,  "  I  was  not  satisfied  that  you 
believed  all  the  Scriptures — do  you  believe  that 
story  about  Samson  and  the  foxes?"  "I  do,"  an- 
swered O.,  with  some  emphasis.  "Do  you  really," 
said  G.,  "believe  that  Samson  caught  two  hundred 
foxes  and  turned  them  tail  to  tail  with  fire-brands 
between,  and  turned  them  loose  among  the  stand- 
ing corn,  vineyards,  and  olives  of  the  Philistines?" 
"Yes,  I  believe  that,"  said  Oldham.  "Just  as  I  ex- 
pected," said  G.  "  The  Bible  says  Samson  caught 
three  hundred  foxes;  you  believe  he  caught  only 
two  hundred!" 

Oldham  never  recovered  from  the  shock.  He 
was  disgraced  in  the  presence  of  his  neighbors  by 
a  trick-question  after  the  pattern  of  many  that  he 
had  propounded  himself.  Wh'atever  his  attitude 
may  have  been  toward  others,  he  never  approached 
G.  with  a  hard  question;  and  it  is  said  that  they 
remained  the  best  and  most  intimate  friends. 

Walk 

Boldly  and  wisely  in  that  light  thou  hast; 
There  is  a  hand  above  will  help  thee  on. 


21. 
NASHVILLE  STATION — GARRETT  AND  (TWIN. 

|E  read  the  diary,  which  can  hardly  now 
be  called  a  diary:  "I  attended  a  session 
of  the  Tennessee  Conference  at  Hunts- 
ville,  Ala.,  November  19,  1829.  Bishop 
Roberts  presided.  We  had  but  little  excitement  in 
religious  matters  at  this  Conference.  I  was  ap- 
pointed with  the  Rev.  James  Gwin  to  the  Nashville 
Station,  and  in  a  short  time  came  to  my  work.  I 
arrived  in  Nashville  some  time  in  November,  and 
found  the  Church  in  quite  a  good  state.  Brother 
Gwin  and  I,  during  the  year,  added  two  wings  to 
the  station — one  west  of  the  city,  and  the  other  east. 
At  the  western  appointment  we  established  a  camp- 
meeting,  which  was  much  blessed  of  God.  During 
this  year  we  added  five  hundred  members  to  the 
Church." 

Dr.  McFerrin  says  ("Methodism  in  Tennessee," 
vol.  iii.,  p.  85) :  "  Mr.  Green  was  then  a  young  man 
just  entering  upon  the  sixth  year  of  his  ministry. 
He  had  traveled  five  years  in  the  Huntsville  Dis- 
trict, and  was  now  stationed  in  a  city  for  the  first 
time. 

"Preaching  was  established,  and  a  church  organ- 

(93) 


94          NAS1IVILLE   STATION — OARUETT    AND    (iWIN. 

ized,  in  a  small  log-cabin  on  Front  street.  Besides 
'New  Hope/  a  small  frame  house,  two  and  a  half 
miles  from  Nashville,  on  the  Gallatin  road,  was  a 
1  Teaching-place.  Another  appointment,  added  to 
the  station  about  this  time,  was  the  Nashville  Camp- 
ground, some  five  miles  west  of  the  city,  and  near 
the  Charlotte  road,  in  what  is  known  as  'Robert- 
son's Bend.'  Another  still  was  the  African  Church, 
situated  not  far  from  the  Sulphur  Spring:  here  there 
was  erected,  for  the  colored  people,  a  commodious 
brick  house,  that  was  thronged  with  anxious  hear- 
ers from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath. 

"  The  reader  will  see  that  this  was  work  enough 
for  two  men,  yet  with  the  aid  of  local  preachers  the 
field  was  well  cultivated,  and  a  rich  harvest  was 
gathered  into  the  garner  of  the  Lord  from  among 
both  the  white  and  colored  people." 

The  Rev.  Lewis  Garrett  was  Presiding  Elder  of 
the  Nashville  District  at  this  date.  He  was  a  thin, 
spare-made,  silver-haired  old  man,  and,  tradition 
says,  very  fond  of  an  argument  about  any  thing  in 
politics,  literature,  or  religion.  He  is  justly  claimed 
by  both  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  Methodism.  Ken- 
tucky has  a  prior  claim,  as  it  was  his  adopted  home 
for  many  years.  As  a  Kentucky  preacher,  an  elab- 
orate notice  has  been  furnished  by  Dr.  McFerrin 
in  the  pages  of  Dr.  Bedford's  "Methodism  in 
Kentucky."  As  a  Tennessee  preacher,  a  very  ex- 
tended and  exhaustive  notice  covers  many  pages 
of  the  first  volume  of  "  Methodism  in  Tennessee." 
As  it  has  been  a  part  of  my  plan  to  furnish  only 
a  running  glimpse  of  my  father's  official  co-labor- 


NASHVILLE    STATION — GARRETT    AND    GWIN.  95 

era,  a  short  paragraph  must  suffice  even  in  this 
case: 

"Mr.  Garrett  was  born  April  24,  1772,  in  Penn- 
sylvania, and  died  at  the  home  of  his  son,  M.  Gar- 
rett, Esq.,  near  Yernon,  Mississippi,  April  28,  1857, 
in  the  eighty-sixth  year  of  his  age.  He  joined  the 
Western  Conference  in  1794.  As  a  preacher  his 
manner  was  very  deliberate,  and  his  sermons  at 
times  overpowering.  In  connection  with  the  Rev. 
John  £T.  Maffitt  he  commenced  in  Nashville  the 
publication  of  the  Western  Methodist,  a  popular 
weekly  sheet,  advocating  the  claims  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church.  From  ill-health  and  other 
causes  he  was  local  for  a  number  of  years,  but  at 
the  time  of  his  death  was  a  member  of  the  Missis- 
sippi Conference."  ("  Methodism  in  Tennessee.") 

Here  were  two  of  the  most  renowned  men  of 
the  West,  and  both  of  them  almost  superannuated, 
thrown  together  in  the  same  field  of  labor — Lewis 
Garrett  and  James  Gwin.  Indeed,  the  little  city 
of  Nashville,  in  1830,  was  the  stamping-ground  of 
the  giants, 

James  Gwin,  among  the  giants,  was  truly  dignus 
honore — the  Marshal  Ney  of  Methodist  cavaliers. 
His  sword  was  better  tempered  than  any  of  Damas- 
cus, for  it  was  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  which  is  the 
word  of  God.  Grand  old  captain !  in  the  name  of 
his  Master  he  "  rode  like  a  leader  in  the  land." 

Mr.  Gwin  was  an  Indian-fighter  before  he  became 
a  preacher.  He  joined  the  Western  Conference  in 
1803,  and  died  a  member  of  the  Mississippi  Confer- 
ence, August  3,  1841. 


96  NASHVILLE    STATION — GARHKTT    AND    GWIN. 

We  subjoin  a  very  interesting  notice  of  James 
Gwin  by  Bishop  Paine: 

"At  the  Tennessee  Conference  held  in  Hnntsville, 
Ala.,  November  19,  1829,  A.  L.  P.  Green  was  ap- 
pointed to  Nashville  Station,  with  James  Gwin  in 
charge.  Mr.  Gwin  was  an  old  man,  large  and  ven- 
erable in  appearance.  Having  been  conspicuous  in 
the  great  revival  of  1800-1804,  he  was  a  great 
favorite  among  all  classes  of  people.  General  Jack- 
son knew  him,  and  greatly  revered  him — so  much 
so  that  he  made  him  a  kind  of  head-chaplain  to  his 
army  in  the  war  he  waged' in  1815  with  the  British 
at  New  Orleans.  His  ardent  patriotism,  and  the 
faithful  performance  of  his  duties  as  chaplain,  had 
added  much  to  his  popularity.  Nor  was  he  less 
popular  as  a  preacher  than  as  a  citizen.  His  per- 
son was  commanding,  his  manners  graceful,  his 
voice  exceedingly  musical,  and  his  preaching  pa- 
thetic. He  was  a  great  singer,  and  thousands  were 
melted  into  tears  and  penitence  under  his  sacred 
songs.  Such  was  the  colleague  of  young  Green  on 
his  first  introduction  to  a  Nashville  auditory.  Of 
course  the  young  man  was  expected  to  do  the  greater 
part  of  the  pastoral  work — visiting  the  members, 
attending  night-meetings,  holding  prayer  and  class- 
meetings — all  of  which  he  cheerfully  did ;  but  he  had 
also  to  preach  regularly  to  a  large  and  intelligent 
audience,  and  studied  hard  to  fit  himself  for  it. 

"  He  presently  observed  that  his  honored  colleague 
was  more  given  to  reading  newspapers  than  books, 
and  ventured  to  ask  him  how  it  was  that  he  could 
preach  so  often  and  so  well  without  read  ins:  books 


NASHVILLE    STATION — GARRETT   AND    GWIN.  97 

and  studying.  The  old  gentleman  then  held  in  his 
hand  the  last  issue  of  his  favorite  paper.  Pausing 
awhile,  and  looking  the  young  preacher  full  in  the 
face,  he  replied:  'Who  makes  all  the  books?  and 
where  do  they  come  from?'  The  reply  was:  'Men 
make  them;  they  come  from  their  heads,  I  suppose.' 
'Well,  then,'  was  the  rejoinder,  'I  am  a  man,  and 
have  the  books  in  my  head.'  The  young  man  was 
bluft'ed,  but  not  convinced,  and  continued  to  read 
and  study.  It  need  not  be  added  that  the  young 
preacher,  by  his  piety,  fidelity  to  duty,  and  steady 
improvement,  became  very  popular  as  a  minister 
and  a  man,  and  retained  the  respect  and  love  of 
the  Church  and  community  till  his  death." 

If  not  to  some  peculiar  end  assigned, 
Study's  the  specious  trifling  of  the  mind; 
Or  is  at  best  a  secondary  aim — 
A  chase  for  sport  alone,  and  not  for  game. 


NASHVILLE  STATION — BISHOP  MCKENDREE. 

|N  the  third  volume  of  the  "History  of 
Methodism  in  Tennessee"  we  have  a  full 
and  thrilling  account  of  the  rise  and  prog- 
ress of  Methodism  in  Nashville.  We  are 
informed  that  when  Mr.  Green  arrived  in  Nashville, 
in  1829,  the  Church  was  well  maimed  by  such  men 
as  Joseph  T.  Elliston,  the  Rev.  Matthew  H.  Quinn, 
John  and  Thomas  Price,  Richard  Garrett,  Joseph 
Litton,  Harry  Hill,  Anthony  W.  Johnson,  William 
Moore,  Nicholas  Hobson,  and  S.  P.  Ament,  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Cumberland;  and  on  the  north 
side  the  Weakleys,  Vaughns,  and  Hoopers.  Besides, 
there  were,  on  College  Side,  the  Parishes,  Mrs. 
Groomes,  and  Mother  Hughes.  We  might  also 
make  honorable  mention  of  the  Mannings,  the 
Bibbs,  the  Hobbses,  and  others,  many  of  whose  de- 
scendants are  still  with  us;  but  we  are  not  writing 
the  history  of  Methodism,  and  must  forbear. 

The  principal  preaching-places  were  on  Church 
street  and  College  Side,  which  appointments  the 
two  pastors  filled  on  Sunday  alternately.  The 
building  on  Church  street  was  "  a  little  east  of  the 
present  buildings  of  the  American  office,  about  half 
(98) 


NASHVILLE   STATION — BISHOP   M?KEXDREE.  99 

way  between  College  and  Cherry  streets,  on  the 
north  side.  It  was  a  comfortable  house  of  high 
pitch,  and  had  galleries  on  both  sides  and  at  one 
end.  It  was  so  constructed  as  to  make  all  the  space 
available;  consequently,  though  the  audience-room 
was  small,  it  accommodated  a  large  number  of  peo- 
ple. This  was  the  principal  Methodist  church  in 
the  city  till  1 833."  ("  Methodism  in  Tennessee.") 

William  Moore,  who  is  at  present  a  member  of 
West  End  Church,  was  a  class-leader  in  1830. 
When  he  failed  to  attend,  his  mother  conducted  the 
class.  Mr.  Moore  states  that  Mother  Hughes  occu- 
pied the  famous  cedar  house  in  South  Nashville, 
called  "College  Side."  He  relates  that  "on  one 
occasion,  while  Mr.  Gwin  was  preaching  in  this 
house,  a  man  came  in  with  a  hatchet,  went  into  the 
adjoining  room,  and  commenced  striking  the  door. 
Gwin  only  raised  his  voice;  the  man  beat  louder; 
Gwin  only  preached  louder,  but  made  no  allusion 
to  the  disturbance.  At  last  the  man  grew  weary,  or 
ashamed,  and  stopped.  There  was  never  any  more 
disturbance  at  that  place." 

We  read  in  the  "Life  and  Times  of  Bishop  Mc- 
Kendree,"  by  Bishop  Paine,  that  "during  the  win- 
ter of  1829  and  1830,  Bishop  McKendree  passed  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  in  Nashville  and  its  imme- 
diate vicinity.  The  residences  of  H.  R.  W.  Hill 
and  J.  T.  Elliston — where  he  had  homes,  and 
every  comfort  and  kindness  which,  in  his  debility 
and  sickness,  he  could  need — were  his  principal 
places  of  staying."  William  Moore  relates  that 
"in  the  autumn  or  winter  of  1829  Bishop  McKen- 


100         NASIIVII.LH   STATION— BISHOP   M'KENDREE. 

dree  came  to  Nashville,  and  stopped  with  Harry 
Hill.  The  Bishop  had  no  acquaintance  with  the 
young  pastor,  and  sent  his  host,  with  William 
Moore,  to  bring  the  preacher  into  his  presence. 
The  conversation  was  laconic  and  novel.  After  the 
salutation,  the  Bishop  said:  'I  sent  a  young  man  to 
Hopkinsville;  the  people  were  slow  in  making  his 
acquaintance;  he  went  around  the  town  and  bor- 
rowed tools;  he  made  little  things,  and  introduced 
himself  thus.  He  did  a  good  work.  Go  and  do 
thou  likewise.'  The  young  preacher  retired  from 
the  presence  of  the  Bishop;  but  it  was  not  neces- 
sary that  he  should  follow  all  these  instructions  to 
gain  favor  with  the  people." 

I  am  not  inclined  to  think  that  my  father  and 
Bishop  McKendree  fell  in  love  at  first  sight,  but  an 
intimacy  sprang  up  between  them  and  ripened  into 
the  tenderest  regard.  My  impressions  of  Bishop 
McKendree  do  not  favor  the  conclusion  that  their 
friendship  was  the  result  of  any  natural  affinity, 
for  their  dispositions  were  in  contrast.  They  stood 
thus  toward  each  other:  the  Bishop  admired  the 
calm  exterior,  the  practical  sense,  and  happy  humor 
of  the  young  preacher,  which  was  reciprocated  by 
reverence  and  esteem  for  the  Bishop's  strong  mind, 
great  history,  and  devotion  to  the  Church. 

On  several  occasions  my  father  was  chosen  by  the 
Bishop  as  his  traveling  companion,  because  of  his 
feeble  health;  for  he  needed  constant  attention. 
Bishop  Paine  says : 

"To  contribute  what  he  could  to  assist  his  col- 
leagues, Bishop  McKendree  resolved  to  visit  the 


NASHVILLE    STATION — BISHOP    Si'KENDREE.         101 

Societies,  and  to  attend  as  many  Conferences  as  his 
health  would  allow. 

"In  conformity  with  this  purpose,  he  resolved  to 
go  South  during  the  winter,  and  embarked  on  a 
steam-boat  at  Nashville. 

"Upon  this  trip  to  New  Orleans  he  had  the  com- 
pany of  A.  L.  P.  Green,  then  associated  with  James 
Gwin,  in  the  Nashville  Station.  The  well-known 
genial  temper  and  social  qualities  of  Brother  Green 
rendered  him  always  a  most  desirable  companion  to 
the  Bishop.  He  had  a  high  esteem  and  reveren- 
tial affection  for  Bishop  McKendree,  and,  to  the  close 
of  the  good  man's  life,  was  his  attentive,  tender, 
and  trusted  friend.  It  was  on  this  trip  to  New  Or- 
leans that  the  incidents  occurred  which  are  narrated 
in  Dr.  Green's  admirable  sketch  of  the  Bishop,  in  the 
1  Biographical  Sketches  of  Itinerant  Ministers,'  ed- 
ited by  Dr.  Summers,  in  1858."  ("Life  and  Times 
of  Bishop  McKeudree.") 

Without  good  company,  all  dainties 

Lose  their  true  relish,  and,  like  painted  grapes, 

Are  only  seen,  not  tasted. 


23. 

THE  SECOND  YEAR  IN  NASHVILLE. 

HE  eighteenth  session  of  the  Tennessee 
Annual  Conference  was  held  at  Franklin, 
beginning  November  3, 1830.     There  be- 
ing no  Bishop  present,  Lewis  Garrett,  sr., 
was  elected  President. 

So  popular  had  A.  L.  P.  Green  become  with  his 
congregation,  and  the  Nashville  community,  that 
the  Presiding  Elder  was  instructed,  and  Joseph  Lit- 
ton, Joseph  T.  Elliston,  and  William  H.  Moore, 
were  sent  to  the  seat  of  the  Conference,  to  solicit 
his  return.  He  makes  no  allusion  to  this  compli- 
ment in  his  Journal.  The  brief  entry  is:  "At  the 
close  of  this  year  (1830)  we  attended  our  Annual 
Conference,  held  at  Franklin,  when  John  M.  Hol- 
land and  I  were  appointed  to  the  Nashville  Station." 
Mr.  Garrett  was  returned  to  the  District,  and  Mr. 
Gwin,  on  account  of  feeble  health,  sustained  a  su- 
pernumerary relation. 

Dr.  McFerrin  says  ("Methodism  in  Tennessee," 
vol.  iii.) :  "  Mr.  Holland  was  then  in  his  full  strength, 
and  he  with  Messrs.  Green  and  Gwin  made  a  strong 
force.  Few  men  combined  so  many  elements  nec- 
essary to  constitute  an  able  preacher  as  did  Mr. 
(102) 


THE    SECOND    YEAR   IN   NASHVILLE.  103 

Holland.  His  person  was  attractive;  his  manner  in 
the  pulpit  was  easy  and  graceful — no  affectation,  no 
attempt  at  display;  his  style  was  chaste,  and  his 
words  well  chosen;  his  sermons  were  well  matured, 
and  delivered  with  earnestness  and  power;  and  they 
seldom  failed  to  produce  conviction  in  the  minds  of 
his  hearers. 

"In  the  autumn  of  1822,  when  about  nineteen  or 
twenty  years  of  age,  he  was  admitted  into  the  trav- 
eling connection  on  trial.  For  twenty  years  he  was 
a  fervent,  devoted  minister  of  Christ,  preaching  the 
gospel  within  the  bounds  of  the  Tennessee,  Missis- 
sippi, and  Memphis  Conferences.  During  the  latter 
part  of  the  summer  of  1841,  while  on  a  remote  por- 
tion of  the  Memphis  District,  he  fell  sick,  and  was 
conveyed  to  the  town  of  Bolivar,  where,  on  the  13th 
of  August,  he  resigned  his  spirit  into  the  hands  of 
God." 

We  read  in  the  Journal,  which  we  will  not  call 
a  "diary"  anymore:  "The  next  year  opened  with 
rather  prosperous  appearances,  and  during  the  whole 
time  we  had  much  peace,  and  the  work  of  God  pros- 
pered, and  many  were  added  to  the  Church.  "We 
lost  much  by  removals,  but  still  had  a  net  increase. 
During  this  year  I  preached  on  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  new  subjects,  and  was  kept  pretty  busy." 

Here  is  an  item  that  we  were  not  looking  for — 
"  one  hundred  and  fifty  new  subjects  in  one  year." 
He  does  not  state  how  many  times  he  preached. 
No  doubt  his  supply  of  sermons  was  exhausted  the 
first  year;  now  he  is  fully  out  at  sea,  but  not  with- 
out a  compass  or  a  rudder;  his  energy,  faith,  and 


104  THE   SECOND    YEAR   IN   NASHVILLE. 

experience  have  grown.  But  one  hundred  and  fifty 
subjects  upon  which  he  had  never  discoursed,  for  he 
calls  them  "  new,"  and  all  in  one  year,  was  certainly 
an  accomplishment;  it  would  be  a  wonder  even  in 
these  days  of  plethoric  variety.  Xo  doubt  it  was 
then  as  it  is  now — the  same  sermon-gormand  was 
iu  the  pew.  An  old  man  might,  with  some  damage 
to  his  reputation,  repeat  a  discourse  to  the  same 
congregation;  but  if  a  young  man  did  it,  dared  to 
do  it,  even  if  it  were  a  lapsus  mensis,  his  fair  fame 
suffered  a  lesion  never  to  be  healed  in  that  commu- 
nity. Would  it  not  be  well  to  write  in  red  ink 
upon  the  margin  of  the  parchment,  "Remember 
vividly,  0  young  man,  the  time,  and  the  place,  and 
the  subject!"  Those  one  hundred  and  fifty  new 
sermons  were  a  necessity  just  as  imperative  as  the 
making  of  bricks  in  Egypt,  and  he  patiently  went 
to  work  and  made  them.  Verily,  a  crocodile,  after 
gulping  down  a  fat  pig,  does  not  more  quietly  close 
his  eyes,  and  throw  up  his  jaw,  ready  for  another, 
than  some  of  our  kind-hearted  laymen,  who,  having 
devoured  a  flaming  sermon  on  a  hot  July  morning, 
return  in  the  evening  and  calmly  and  placidly  look 
up  for  another.  All  that  we  have  to  say  is,  Let  them 
have  it;  if  they  can  stand  it,  we  can.  But,  waiving 
the  facetious,  we  do  really  believe  that  some  people 
have  too  much  preaching,  and  others  not  enough ; 
and  yet,  to  insure  an  audience  for  all,  we  must  over- 
dose the  few.  "We  pass  on  without  making  any 
change  in  the  present  plan. 

I  must  relate  an  incident  that  occurred  during  my 
father's  pastorate  in  Nashville. 


THE   SECOND   YEAK   IN   NASHVILLE.  105 

Jett  and  Black  were  members  of  the  Nashville 
Station.  They  were  thrifty,  reputable  merchants, 
keeping  stores  on  the  haberdasher  plan.  They 
were  intimate  friends,  though  exactly  opposites  in 
disposition.  Jett  was  of  fair  complexion,  nervous, 
quick;  while  Black  was  a  dark-skinned,  bilious, 
slow  man.  They  were  both  morbidly  devoted  to 
auctions.  On  one  occasion  after  supper,  Jett  stopped 
by  and  asked  his  friend  to  accompany  him  to  an 
auction.  Of  course  Black  went.  A  box  of  shoes 
were  put  up  for  sale.  Jett  bid;  then  Black;  then 
Jett;  then  Black;  and  they  were  knocked  down  to 
Black.  Jett  went  immediately  home;  Black  re- 
mained till  after  the  sale.  What  was  his  astonish- 
ment, on  examining  his  purchase,  to  find  that  there 
was  not  a  single  pair  of  shoes  in  the  box;  all  of 
them  were  odd !  He  asked  the  auctioneer,  "  Who 
placed  these  shoes  here?"  and  received  the  reply, 
"Your  friend  Mr.  Jett."  Black  said  not  a  word; 
paid  for  his  purchase;  had  the  box  nailed  up  and 
stored  away  in  an  upper  room  of  the  auction-store, 
where  it  remained  for  ten  or  twelve  months.  In 
the  meantime  Jett  had  forgotten  the  circumstance; 
Black  had  kept  his  own  counsels.  The  same  box 
of  shoes  was  put  up  for  sale;  Jett  and  Black  were 
present.  Jett  was  very  much  taken  with  the  shoes; 
asked  Black  not  to  bid  against  him.  Jett  bid;  then 
Black;  then  Jett;  and  they  were  knocked  down  to 
Jett.  Black  went  home  immediately;  Jett,  very 
much  elated  with  his  purchase,  remained.  Even 
after  examining  the  shoes,  he  did  not  recognize 
them;  asked  who  placed  them  there;  and  when 
5* 


106  THE   SECOND   YEAR   IN   NASHVILLE. 

told  that  Black  did  it,  expressed  his  opinion  very 
freely  about  Black.  The  next  day  Jett  called  on 
his  pastor  with  a  complaint  against  Black,  and  con- 
cluded by  saying  that  he  would  not  live  in  the 
Church  with  such  a  man;  that  Black  must  be  turned 
out,  or  he  would  go  out.  My  father  called  on  Black, 
who  gave  him  a  full  statement  of  the  whole  affair 
from  the  beginning;  he  then  called  on  Jett,  who, 
after  hearing  the  version  of  Black,  said,  "Well, 
Brother  Green,  if  the  Lord  will  give  me  grace,  I 
will  forgive  him." 

The  man  who  dares  to  dress  misdeeds, 

Or  colors  them  with  virtue's  name,  deserves 

A  double  punishment  from  gods  and  men. 


24. 
His  MARRIAGE  AND  His  HOMES. 

HAVE  known  a  few  men  and  women  of 
the  proper  age  whom  I  would  not  advise 
to  marry — persons  who  employ  their  en- 
ergies in  making  others  miserable.  Self- 
ish people,  drunkards,  whining  women,  and  persons 
of  ungodly  tempers,  can  negatively  bless  their  race 
by  remaining  single.  What  everybody  says  every- 
body is  apt  to  repeat;  e.  y.,  it  is  a  common  saying 
that  "marriage  is  a  lottery,"  which,  in  the  main,  is 
far  from  being  true.  There  may  be,  in  some  cases, 
a  blind,  heedless  indifference  upon  the  part  of 
lovers  as  to  the  true  character  of  each  other;  but 
where  there  is  a  will  to  know,  the  knowledge  is  at- 
tainable. Women — particularly  young  women  — 
are  good  judges  of  men;  they  see  the  wise,  the 
foolish,  the  noble,  and  the  mean,  in  a  man  almost  at 
a  glance.  There  may  be  exceptions;  but  I  am  con- 
vinced that  very  few  women  marry  madmen  or 
drunkards  because  they  have  not  sufficient  warn- 
ing. The  surprise  after  marriage  is  not  that  the 
beast  has  horns,  but  that  neither  love  nor  forbear- 
ance can  extract  his  horns.  We  will  turn  round 
and  repeat  about  men  what  we  have  said  of  women. 

(107) 


108  HIS   MARRIAGE    AND    HIS   HOMES. 

The  heathens  represent  Cupid,  the  god  of  love,  as 
Mind;  the  heathens  were  irood  at  blunders,  and  this 
is  one  of  them.  People  who  are  in  love  see  remark- 
ably. I  have  known  a  boy -lover,  through  the 
merest  craek  of  a  church-door,  to  mirror  a  large 
congregation  from  one  eye.  The  truth  is,  love 
knows  more  than  it  speaks.  It  is  a  poor  palliative, 
"I  was  deceived,"  which  we  admit  with  some  qual- 
ification. Occasionally  we  are  arrested  by  a  mari- 
tal paradox;  e.  g.,  a  wise  man  marries  foolishly,  and 
a  foolish  man  marries  wisely.  There  is  no  decep- 
tion here;  the  wise  man  was  attracted  by  physical 
charms,  the  foolish  man  by  the  graces  of  heart  and 
intellect.  .Now,  we  approach  what  I  have  been 
driving  at.  A  Methodist  itinerant  should  be  well 
married.  His  wife,  because  of  his  absence,  must 
be  the  autocrat  in  the  family;  she  is  a  woman  in 
power,  and  should  know  how  to  wield  it.  Not  con- 
fining ourselves  to  Methodist  ministers,  we  believe 
that  the  wives  of  preachers,  taking  them  as  a  body, 
are  the  most  perfect,  patient,  and  competent  of 
women.  Now,  be  charitable  enough  to  withhold 
your  prejudgment,  and  instance  the  cases.  I  will 
abide  the  conclusion.  I  have  never  been  very  en- 
thusiastic about  the  mode  of  baptism,  but  I  will 
defend  preachers'  wives  and  preachers'  sons  against 
the  attacks  of  any  man,  provided  he  is  sane  and 
respectable.  I  believe  the  world  and  the  devil  have 
brought  no  "railing  accusation"  against  preachers' 
daughters. 

This  marriage-homily  was  suggested  by  a  laconic 
entry  in  my  father's  Journal,  which  reads:  "During 


•  HIS   MARRIAGE   AND   HIS   HOMES.  109 

this  year  (1831)  I  married  a  wife."  This  language 
is  both  profane  and  sacred.  He  is  brief,  for  the  rea- 
son that  he  did  riot  know  what  to  say,  that  he  could 
say,  about  himself.  He  was  married,  October  19, 
1831,  by  the  Rev.  John  M.  Holland,  to  Miss  Mary 
Ann  Elliston,  a  girl  in  her  fifteenth  year.  I  might 
relate  some  interesting  incidents  connected  with  this 
marriage;  but  my  mother  has  placed  an  embargo 
on  my  pen.  What  am  I  to  do?  Who  would  read 
a  biography  by  a  disobedient  son?  "  The  ravens  of 
the  valley  would  tear  it  up,  and  the  young  eagles 
would  eat  it."  Miss  Mary  Ann  was  young,  but  a 
mature,  sensible  woman.  She  was  a  graduate  of 
the  old  Nashville  Female  Academy,  during  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  Rev.  William  Hume.  She  was 
the  only  daughter  of  a  widow  (Mrs.  Ann  T.  Ellis- 
ton)  who  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  The 
sorrows  of  her  mother  gave  her  a  practical  knowl- 
edge of  the  dark  side  of  human  experience.  She 
was  a  good  wife  and  mother,  and  she  was  a  Chris- 
tian from  a  child. 

I  will  take  the  liberty  of  relating  the  following 
incident,  which  may  be  of  interest  to  some  romantic 
reader : 

The  young  pastor  was  making  his  home  for  a  few 
months  at  Mr.  Gwin's.  At  the  same  time  Mrs. 
Mullen,  the  aunt  of  Miss  Elliston,  was  boarding 
there.  The  niece  very  naturally  called  around  to 
see  her  aunt,  who  was  anxious  to  hear  the  young 
lady  perform  on  the  piano.  Mr.  Gwin  owned  no 
instrument,  but  there  was  one  in  the  next  house,  to 
which  the  whole  party,  the  preacher  among  the 


110  HIS    MARRIAGE    AND    HIS    HOMES. 

rest,  repaired,  and  Miss  Mary  Ann  played  and  sang 
"I  won't  be  a  nun."  This  was  what  the  poets  em- 
phasize— "the  first  meeting." 

I  might  mention,  if  my  mother  would  allow,  a 
number  of  entertainments  in  honor  of  this  mar- 
riage, got  up  in  the  old  style,  without  stint  as  to 
quantity  or  expense,  at  Col.  Anthony  Johnson's, 
Col.  Turner's,  Joseph  T.  Elliston's,  H.  R.  W.  Hill's, 
James  R.  McCombs's,  and  other  places;  but  a  refer- 
ence to  these  things  may  not  comport  with  the  dig- 
nity of  a  preacher's  biography. 

Dr.  R.  A.  Young  says:  "He  (Mr.  Green)  married 
a  lady  who  always  appreciated  his  talents  and  voca- 
tion— just  such  a  wife  as  every  preacher  of  the  gos- 
pel should  have.  His  friends  were  her  friends." 

I  cannot  close  this  paper  without  making  mention 
of  a  few,  at  least,  of  those  happy  homes  that  my 
father  found  in  Nashville  during  his  first  two  years' 
pastorate.  Being  a  young  man,  he  "  staid  around." 
He  spent  most  of  his  time  with  the  hospitable  fam- 
ily of  James  Gwin ;  but  he  found  comfortable  homes 
at  Anthony  Johnson's,  William  Moore's,  Enoch 
Wellborne's,  and  James  McCombs's.  I  have  some 
pleasant  recollections  of  that  great-hearted,  Chris- 
tian woman,  Mrs.  McCombs.  She  died  when  I  was 
a  child,  but  I  still  retain  every  feature  of  her  face. 
I  remember  what  a  joy  it  was  just  to  go  on  an  er- 
rand to  her  house.  She  exerted  herself  to  make  a 
neighbor's  child  happy.  The  reader  might  laugh 
contemptuously  if  I  were  to  tell  of  the  many  little 
pleasant  things  she  did.  Xo  matter — I  have  them 
all  locked  up  in  the  "  round  tower  of  my  heart," 


HIS   MARRIAGE    AND    HIS    HOMES.  Ill 

where  the  spoiler  cannot  come;  and  it  will  be  I 
who,  in  the  presence  of  the  Father  and  the  holy 
angels,  will  add  them  to  her  crown  of  rejoicing  at 
that  day.  She  made  a  friend,  and  the  friend  was 
a  child — that  is  all. 


25. 

FRANKLIN  STATION — MEDICINE  AND  GENERAL 
CONFERENCE. 

[HE  twentieth  session  of  the  Tennessee 
Conference  was  held  in  Paris,  beginning 
Thursday,  November  10,  1831.  Bishop 
Roberts  was  present  and  presided.  This 
was  the  first  session  of  an  Annual  Conference  held 
in  that  part  of  the  State  west  of  the  Tennessee 
River.  The  Conference  was  in  session  nine  days, 
including  the  Sabbath."  ("Methodism  in  Tennes- 
see.") 

The  Journal  is  not  exhausted.  We  open  and 
read:  "At  the  Conference  held  in  Paris  I  received 
my  appointment  to  the  Franklin  Station.  About 
two  weeks  after  Conference  I  was  in  my  pulpit. 
My  plan  at  present  for  filling  this  work  is  to  attend 
on  Sundays,  and  stay  with  my  family  in  Nashville 
during  the  week,  which  I  think  best,  though  it  is 
somewhat  disagreeable,  for  the  winter  is,  and  has 
been,  very  cold;  but  this  can  be  endured  when  we 
have  prospects  of  doing  good,  though  religion  is  at 
a  low  ebb." 

It  must  not  be  regarded  as  a  reflection  on  the 
itinerant  system  when  we  affirm  that  A.  L.  P.  Green, 
f112) 


MEDICINE   AND   GENERAL   CONFERENCE.  113 

by  not  removing  his  family,  was  enabled  to  accom- 
plish more  good  for  the  Church.  In  forty-three 
years  of  itinerating,  as  a  married  man,  he  never 
changed  his  residence,  and  hence,  which  may  seem 
paradoxical,  was  enabled  to  give  more  of  his  time 
to  the  ministry.  While  this  may  encourage  those 
who  cannot  move,  it  should  not  discourage  those 
who  can  and  do  move.  The  family  of  A.  L.  P. 
Green  was  not  itinerant;  he  was,  in  the  most  com- 
prehensive sense,  for  he  was  two-thirds  of  his  time 
away  from  home. 

We  now  copy  from  the  Journal  what  may  seem 
an  erratic  notion.  However,  the  end  was  good, 
and  "all's  well  that  ends  well."  He  says:  "For 
the  last  five  years  I  have  had  it  in  contemplation  to 
study  medicine,  but  have  again  and  again  been  dis- 
suaded from  it  by  my  friends.  I  have  at  length  de- 
termined to  pursue  the  study,  and,  therefore,  under 
the  direction  of  Dr.  John  Waters,  have  set  in  for  a 
regular  course  of  reading.  How  I  will  succeed  time 
must  determine,  but  such  is  the  state  of  feeling  with 
me  that  I  can  make  it  a  subject  of  prayer,  and  with 
a  good  conscience  go  into  the  practice  after  I  shall 
have  mastered  the  science.  My  design  is  good."  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  explain  until  he  has  fully  deliv- 
ered himself  on  the  subject  of  pln^sic.  He  writes : 
"For  the  first  three  months  I  attended  my  appoint- 
ments in  Franklin  regularly,  though  the  weather 
was  extremely  cold,  and  the  roads  very  bad.  But 
few  persons  seemed  inclined  to  attend  the  Church, 
but  I  felt  bound  to  meet  with  them. 

"Our  first  quarterly-meeting  was  not  attended 


114  FRANKLIN    STATION. 

with  any  extraordinary  work  of  conviction  or  con- 
version, but  no  doubt  good  was  done.  The  weather 
was  unusually  cold,  and  the  Elder,  Brother  Lewis 
Garrett,  did  not  attend.  I  had  to  hold  the  meeting 
without  a  preacher  or  even  an  exhorter,  but  the  Lord 
was  with  us,  and  during  the  sacrament  on  Sunday 
one  soul  was  happily  converted. 

"0<tf.  5,  1832.  As  I  had  at  the  previous  Annual 
Conference  been  elected  a  delegate  to  the  General 
Conference,   I    and    my   companions    set    out   for 
Philadelphia — the  seat  of  the  Conference — April  2, 
1832.    We  were  gone  three  months.    On  my  return 
I  found  mj-  work  in  Franklin  just  as  I  had  left  it. 
One  of  the  preachers  on  the  Nashville  Circuit — 
the  Rev.  Greenbury  Garrett — had  been  so  kind  as 
to   take   my   appointment   under   his   charge,  and 
had  preached  a  number  of  times.     I  resumed  my 
work,  and,  after  a  month  or  so,  some  religious  in- 
terest became  apparent;  a  number  were  added  to 
the  Church.     We  at  length  agitated  the  propriety 
of  getting  up  a  camp-meeting  for  the  station,  and 
the  idea  seemed  to  take  finely.     Ten  or  eleven  fine 
tents  were  soon  built.    The  last  week  in  August  we 
held  our  camp-meeting;  forty -five  souls  were  hap- 
pily converted,  and  as  many  added  to  the  Church. 
Since  that  time  a  continuous  religious  excitement 
has  been  kept  up,  and  I  hope  that  many  are  now 
serious  who  will  eventually  be  brought  to  God. 
Our  last   quarterly-meeting  will   be   held   on   the 
thirteenth   and  fourteenth  of  this   month,  at  the 
close  of  which  I  shall  leave  them.     The  Church 
will  have  when  I  leave  one-third  more  members 


MEDICINE    AND    GENERAL   CONFERENCE.  115 

than  when  I  came.  What  will  be  done  with  me 
another  year  I  know  not. 

"In  my  medical  studies  I  am  still  slowly  pro- 
gressing, and,  if  I  meet  with  no  hinderance,  shall 
go  through  with  it. 

"My  mind,  in  a  spiritual  point  of  view,  has  been 
clear  and  composed;  and  I  feel  at  present  as  fully 
bound  to  be  a  Christian  minister  as  I  ever  did. 
Lord,  help  me  to  hold  out  faithful  in  all  that's 
good,  and  to  avoid  all  that's  evil!" 

Physicians  mend  or  end  us, 

Secundumarlem;  but  although  we  sneer 

In  health,  when  sick,  we  call  them  to  attend  us, 
Without  the  least  propensity  to  jeer. 


26. 

REVIEW  OF  THE  LAST  CHAPTER — NASHVILLE 
STATION. 

jE  have  copied  the  last  entry  from  the  old 
Journal — we  have  solemnly  laid  it  away 
to  rest;  and  now,  before  we  pass  on,  will 
take  a  hurried  glimpse  of  the  last  paper. 
The  pastorate  of  Mr.  Green  in  Franklin  was  made 
very  pleasant  by  the  presence  and  association  of  such 
sterling  men  and  Methodists  as  Messrs.  Johnson, 
Eelbeck,  Park,  and  Ewing.  The  latter — Alexander 
Ewing — joined  the  Church  at  the  camp-meeting;  he 
was  one  of  the  campers,  and  brother  of  a  life-long 
and  devoted  friend  of  my  father — the  late  William 
B.  Ewing,  of  Nashville  vicinity. 

That  my  father  ever  had  the  remotest  idea  of 
abandoning  the  calling  of  a  minister,  to  engage  in 
the  practice  of  medicine,  I  cannot  believe  for  a  mo- 
ment; he  had  in  view  what  he  thought  would  be  a 
valuable  adjunct.  A  knowledge  of  medicine  is  an 
essential  in  the  education  of  a  missionary  to  foreign 
lands — why  not  an  essential  in  the  education  of  all 
ministers?  Mr.  Wesley  placed  a  high  estimate  on 
his  medical  knowledge.  No  doubt  our  young  itin- 
erant, in  the  sparsely-settled  regions  of  North  Ala- 
(116) 


NASHVILLE    STATION.  117 

bama,  had  frequent  use  for  medical  knowledge. 
Called  suddenly  to  the  bedside  of  one  taken  with 
some  acute  distemper — a  regular  practitioner  not.  to 
be  reached  in  four  or  five  miles — a  knowledge  of 
some  simple  palliatives  might  be  put  to  charitable 
use  without  invading  the  rights  of  the  profession. 
Indeed,  a  minister  can  bring  into  valuable  requisi- 
tion in  preaching  a  knowledge  of  human  anatomy 
and  pathology,  in  an  endless  chain  of  strong,  natu- 
ral illustrations.  Theology,  in  its  broad  sense,  is  a 
curriculum  of  the  sciences.  Other  men  are  confined 
to  certain  branches,  and  move  in  certain  circles,  but 
the  theologian  is  the  heir  to  all  the  possessions  of 
his  Father,  which  is  the  universal  empire  of  mind 
and  matter.  A  university,  in  the  outfit  of  a  minis- 
ter, must  furnish  him  with  all  that  it  has,  and  then 
he  is  poorly  prepared  if  he  has  no  more. 

A.  L.  P.  Green  was  a  fine  judge  of  disease.  His 
diagnosis  was  regarded  by  his  intimate  friends  as 
almost  final.  Whether  this  was  genius  or  acquired 
by  the  study  of  medicine  we  know  not;  but  we  may 
venture  that  his  study  and  knowledge  of  medicine 
served  him  many  a  valuable  purpose.  We  can  dis- 
cover no  harm  that  came  out  of  his  physic.  We 
have  but  one  demurrer  to  advance:  he  speaks  of 
"going  into  the  practice,"  but  evidently  with  no 
intention  of  ceasing  to  travel.  This  was  just  a  mis- 
take, that  became  patent  in  a  short  time;  for  the 
Scriptures  taught  him  that  he  could  not  "  serve  two 
masters."  I  never  heard  my  father  speak  of  his 
medical  studies.  I  remember  there  was  in  his  library 
one  medical  book — a  work  on  anatomy,  by  some  old 


118  REVIEW   OF  THE   LAST   CHAPTER. 

author,  perhaps  Bell.  There  were  some  other  more 
professional  remains.  My  brother  and  I,  as  boys 
will  do,  went  a  rummaging  one  day.  We  grabbled 
out  from  the  dark  corner  of  an  old  closet  two  human 
leg -bones  and  a  skull.  Boys  are  practical.  We 
could  make  no  use  of  the  leg-bones,  but  the  skull, 
which  was  nicely  macerated,  served  as  a  holder  for 
bullets,  corks,  and  fishing-hooks.  In  a  few  months 
the  skull  was  spirited  away.  We  did  not  believe 
that  the  original  owner  had  come  for  it;  but  we  had 
strong  suspicions  of  our  grandmother,  who  ques- 
tioned the  propriety  of  using  so  sacred  a  casket  in 
such  a  way. 

Mr.  Green  was  elected  a  delegate  to  the  General 
Conference  that  met  in  Philadelphia  in  1832.  He 
was  at  this  time  nearly  twenty-six  years  old.  He 
states  that  "three  months  were  consumed  in  the 
trip."  It  was  a  tedious  journey,  by  steam-boat  and 
stage.  While  in  Philadelphia  he  was  hospitably 
entertained  by  James  McClintock,  M.D.,  brother  of 
the  renowned  encyclopedist. 

At  the  Annual  Conference  held  in  Nashville  Oc- 
tober 31, 1832,  A.  L.  P.  Green  was  appointed  to  the 
Nashville  Station,  with  Pleasant  B.  Robinson  junior 
preacher.  This  appointment  is  called  in  the  Min- 
utes "Nashville  City."  William  McMahon  is  Pre- 
siding Elder.  "  Bishop  Andrew  was  present  at  this 
Conference,  and  presided.  He  was  ordained  Bishop 
this  year,  and  this  was  his  first  Conference  as  a  pre- 
siding officer."  ("Methodism  in  Tennessee.") 

The  Rev.  Pleasant  B.  Robinson,  M.D.,  the  col- 
leajjue  of  A.  L.  P.  Green  on  the  Nashville  Station, 


NASHVILLE    STATION.  119 

"entered  the  traveling  connection  in  the  Tennessee 
Conference  in  1827.  His  preaching  was  distin- 
guished by  good  sense,  a  rich  flow  of  thought,  fer- 
vent zeal,  deep  piety,  and  pure  pathos.  His  success 
as  a  preacher  was  very  extensive.  He  was  always 
acceptable,  popular,  and  useful,  wherever  he  labored. 
In  the  altar  he  had  few  superiors,  and  his  willing 
mind  entered  largely  and  successfully  into  this  de- 
partment of  the  work.  His  last  illness  and  death 
were  caused  by  exposure  and  overwork  during  a 
revival  in  West  Huutsville,  where  he  was  stationed 
at  the  time."  (Official  Record.)  He  died  at  his 
post,  October  2,  1861. 

The  two  churches  of  the  Nashville  Station  wrere 
filled,  as  before,  alternately  by  the  two  preachers. 
The  Nashville  camp-meeting  was  a  good  feeder  for 
the  station;  also,  New  Hope,  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Cumberland,  about  a  mile  and  one-half  out,  had  be- 
come an  appointment  of  some  prominence. 

A  young  man  of  twenty-six,  who  had  filled  the 
Nashville  Station  two  years — the  limit  of  the  pas- 
torate— and  then  returned  at  the  end  of  one  year — 
this  was  a  matter  of  congratulation,  and  by  no 
means  an  ordinary  ministerial  experience  in  those 
days. 

We  quote  from  "  Methodism  in  Tennessee,"  vol. 
iii.:  "In  the  autumn  of  1831  Lorenzo  D.  Overall 
and  John  B.  McFerrin  were  appointed  to  the  Nash- 
ville Station.  Many  of  the  most  substantial  citizens 
were  brought  into  the  Church.  The  year  following 
Alexander  L.  P.  Green  and  Pleasant  B.  Robinson 
were  appointed  to  the  station,  and  James  Gwin  to 


120         REVIEW  OP  THE  LAST  CHAPTER. 

the  African  Mission,  in  Nashville  and  vicinity.  The 
glorious  work  went  on,  and  abundant  success 
crowned  the  labors  of  His  servants;  seven  hundred 
and  eighty  white  members  were  returned,  and  eight 
hundred  and  ten  colored.  Mr.  Robinson,  the  co- 
laborer  of  Mr.  Green,  was  an  indefatigable  worker, 
and  was  a  true  yoke-fellow  of  his  colleague. 

"In  the  autumn  of  1832  a  new  church-edifice  was 
projected,  while  Messrs.  Overall  and  McFerrin  were 
in  the  station.  During  the  next  year  the  building 
was  completed,  under  the  pastoral  supervision  of 
Messrs.  Green  and  Robinson.  It  was  determined 
to  call  the  church  McKendree,  in  honor  of  Bishop 
McKendree,  which  name  it  bears  till  this  day;  and 
from  its  pulpit  the  Bishop  delivered  his  last  public 
discourse. 

"About  the  time  the  McKendree  Church  was 
opened  the  Rev.  John  Newlarid  Maffitt  visited  Nash- 
ville, and  preached  a  series  of  revival-sermons;  the 
result  was  many  were  added  to  the  Church." 

And  now,  the  generation  that  built  McKendree 
and  the  great  men  who  first  preached  there  are 
nearly  all  gathered  to  their  fathers.  The  old  church, 
like  an  old  man,  totters  when  her  metal  voice,  upon 
the  Sabbath-day,  calls  her  children  and  her  chil- 
dren's children  to  prayer.  The  history  of  an  empire 
may  be  written — not  the  history  of  old  McKendree. 
Who  can  repeat  the  sermons  of  wondrous  power? 
who  has  noted  the  shining  faces  and  happy  hearts? 
who  has  numbered  the  tears  shed  there  in  forty-four 
years?  But  McKendree  has  served  her  day;  she 
has  buried  her  dead,  and  now  the  living  will  bury 


NASHVILLE   STATION.  121 

her.  Under  the  administration  of  the  present  pas- 
tor, Dr.  D.  C.  Kelley,  a  new  building,  elegant  and 
beautiful,  has  been  projected  and  is  in  process  of 

erection. 

Piety  first  laid 

A  strong  foundation,  but  she  wanted  aid; 
To  wealth  unwieldy  was  her  prayer  addressed, 
Who  largely  gave. 

6 


27. 

CUMBERLAND  DISTRICT — BISHOP  MCKENDREE. 

[HE  twenty-second  session  of  the  Tennes- 
see Conference  was  held  in  Pulaski,  be- 
ginning November  6,  1833.  Bishop  Mc- 
Kendree  was  present,  but  so  feeble  in 
body  that  he  had  to  call  Thomas  L.  Douglass  to 
assist  him  in  the  duties  of  the  chair. 

A.  L.  P.  Green  was  appointed,  by  this  Conference, 
to  the  Cumberland  District,  which  work  he  filled 
four  years  in  succession.  During  the  session  of  this 
Conference  the  memorable  meteoric  shower  occurred, 
about  which  many  amusing  stories  are  told.  We 
have  a  graphic  account  of  it  in  the  "  Life  and  Times 
of  Bishop  McKendree." 

It  was  required  in  those  days  that  a  Presiding 
Elder  should  be  more  than  a  medium  man.  The 
office  was  large,  and  the  man  must  correspond  to 
the  office.  No  refuse  or  worn-out  man  was  selected ; 
he  must  be  social,  able-bodied,  religious,  a  good 
judge  of  men,  and  a  good  preacher.  His  coming 
was  an  occasion.  A  ^quarterly-meeting  was  looked 
for  and  prepared  for.  The  Elder  was  a  great  man, 
preached  great  sermons,  was  treated  with  much  def- 
erence, ruled  over  a  large  territory. 
(12-') 


CUMBERLAND-  DISTRICT — BISHOP   M'KENDREE.       123 

A.  L.  P.  Green  was  in  all  points  "  thoroughly  fur- 
nished" unto  the  work  of  a  Presiding  Elder.  He 
was  a  good  preacher,  religious,  prudent,  healthy, 
and  social;  he  knew  men,  and  could  adapt  himself 
to  all  classes.  Another  qualification  (which  may  be 
placed  on  the  extra  list)  he  possessed  to  an  eminent 
degree:  his  knowledge  of  wood-craft  was  remarka- 
ble. This  was  more  a  requisite  then  than  now. 
He  was  never  lost,  and  yet  he  frequently  inquired 
the  way  of  negroes,  just  to  amuse  himself  with  their 
ridiculous  directions. 

The  Cumberland  was  an  immense  District,  em- 
bracing the  circuits  and  stations  in  Wilson  and 
Sumner  counties,  and  extending  to  Dover,  below 
Clarksville.  Over  new  and  almost  impassable  roads 
he  had  to  ride  hundreds  of  miles,  being  absent  from 
home  six  to  eight  weeks  at  a  time.  He  makes  favor- 
able mention  of  his  horse  Pilgrim,  who  carried  him 
many  a  mile  during  these  four  years  of  itinerating. 
Poor  Pilgrim  died  in  the  work.  We  know  hut 
little  as  to  the  details  of  his  ministerial  labors  on  the 
Cumberland  District.  Referring  to  a  revival-notice 
of  A.  L.  P.  Green,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Stringfield, 
editor  of  the  South-western  Christian  Advocate,  says: 
"Look  at  the  following  as  a  sample  of  writing  a 
great  many  good  things  in  a  few  words:  'Galla- 
tin,  August  24,  1837.— Brother  Stringfield:  We 
have  glorious  times  at  our  Cairo  camp-meeting;  one 
hundred  and  sixty-nine  converts,  and  large  additions 
to  the  Church;  the  work  is  still  going  on.  I  never 
saw  such  a  display  of  divine  power  before.  Our 
Douglass  camp-meeting  will  commence  this  evening, 


124      CUMBERLAND  DISTRICT — BISHOP  M'KENDREE. 


and  we  expect  much  there  also.  We  have  very  few 
preachers  in  attendance.  A.  L.  P.  Green.'" 

"We  also  insert  this  account,  by  Mr.  Green,  from 
the  Western  Methodist: 

"The  camp-meeting  at  Saunders's  Chapel,  Fount- 
ain Head  Circuit,  commenced  on  Friday,  September 
5.  Bishop  McKendree  was  present,  and  preached 
once.  The  audience  was  large  and  respectable, 
although  the  weather  was  stormy  and  inclement. 
The  excitement  was  not  great  until  near  the  close 
of  the  meeting,  when  the  power  of  God  came,  and 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  passed  before  the  people. 
Between  twenty  and  thirty  embraced  religion. 

"  The  camp-meeting  at  Dixon's  Springs,  for  Goose 
Creek  Circuit,  conlmenced  on  Friday,  September  12. 
It  was  well  attended  by  both  preachers  and  people, 
notwithstanding  there  was  much  sickness  in  the 
neighborhood.  Great  peace  and  harmony  prevailed 
throughout  the  congregation,  and  especially  among 
the  members  of  the  Quarterly-meeting  Conference, 
enabling  them  to  dispatch  their  official  business  with 
signal  celerity  and  perfect  unanimity.  Christians  had 
great  religious  enjoyment,  and  although  the  number 
of  converts  was  not  so  great  as  could  have  been 
wished,  yet  more  than  twenty  owned  their  Saviour 
before  men,  and  tasted  the  joys  of  his  salvation. 
The  Rev.  E.  J.  Allen,  the  preacher  in  charge  of  this 
circuit,  after  traveling  and  laboring  the  whole  year, 
and  looking  tip  to  this  camp-meeting  with  deep 
interest,  a  few  days  before  its  commencement  had 
been  attacked  with  the  bilious  fever.  He  had,  how- 
ever, strength  enough  to  sustain  him  in  reaching 


CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISHOP    M'KENDREE.      125 

the  ground,  where  he  soon  became  worse,  and  on 
Saturday  evening  was  carried  from  the  encampment 
in  a  carriage.  On  taking  his  leave  he  implored  the 
blessings  of  Heaven  to  rest  on  the  campers,  and  on 
the  meeting  at  large,  and  departed  under  the  possi- 
bility that  he  would  not  see  their  faces  any  more, 
yet  so  joyful  in  the  Lord  that  he  shouted  his  praises 
in  his  bed  as  he  was  borne  away.  He  has  since 
happily  recovered. 

"  The  Cairo  camp-meeting  commenced  on  Friday, 
September  19.  The  congregations  Were  large,  and 
respectable,  and  orderly — not  a  single  thing  having 
been  observed  that  merited  reproof  during  the  whole 
meeting.  There  was  deep  attention  to  the  preached 
word;  Christians  had  sweet  enjoyment,  and  four- 
teen persons  professed  to  find  the  pardon  of  their  sins. 

"  New  Salem  camp-meeting,  for  Fountain  Head 
Circuit,  commenced  on  Friday,  September  26.  Here 
there  were  unusual  displays  of  divine  power.  The 
good  Spirit  was  with  preachers  and  people  from  the 
commencement  of  the  meeting;  all  ages  arid  sizes 
were  under  its  influence.  Here  Bishop  McKendree 
preached  with  unusual  unction  and  power.  His 
text  was,  'For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ;  to  die  is  gain.' 
After  showing  how  the  cause  of  Christ  is  promoted 
by  the  efforts  and  labors  of  his  ministers,  he  came 
to  speak  of  the  gain  it  would  be  to  the  laborious 
minister  and  Christian  to  die.  The  question  was, 
And  what  shall  they  gain?  The  first  answer  was 
that  they  should  gain  a  sight  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
their  best  Friend;  at  which  answer  his  aged  cheeks 
overflowed  with  tears  of  holy  joy,  and  the  deep- 


126      CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISilOP   M'KENDREE. 

stirred  emotions  of  his  soul  choked  his  utterance. 
A  corresponding  emotion  rolled  its  power  over  the 
audience,  to  the  most  distant  listener. 

"  One  circumstance  is  worthy  of  notice.  On  Tues- 
day afternoon,  near  the  close  of  the  sermon,  while 
the  preacher  was  describing  the  joys  of  heaven, 
after  calling  to  his  congregation  in  the  following 
language,  '0  come  and  let  us  go,'  a  gentleman  of 
no  ordinary  influence  and  standing  in  society,  sitting 
in  the  congregation,  rose  to  his  feet,  rushed  into  the 
pulpit,  took  the  minister  by  the  hand,  and  cried  out, 
' I  will  go  with  you,  sir;  I'll  go  with  you!'  He  was 
then  asked  by  the  minister  if  he  would  not  take  his 
friends  with  him;  he  said,  ( Yes,  sir,  they  shall  go!' 
An  invitation  was  then  given  to  his  friends  and  all 
others  who  had  no  religion  to  come  to  the  altar;  and 
such  a  rushing  to  an  altar  was  never  witnessed  be- 
fore; the  in  closure  was  filled  to  overflowing;  groans 
and  shouts  filled  the  air.  Between  forty  and  fifty 
persons  were  happily  converted  at  this  meeting,  and 
the  work  is  yet  gloriously  going  on  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

"  The  fourth  quarterly-meeting  for  White's  Creek 
Circuit  was  attended  at  Haysboro,  on  the  4th  and 
5th  of  October.  On  Saturday,  by  reason  of  a  con- 
stant fall  of  rain  in  the  morning,  but  few  persons 
attended.  The  preacher  took  for  his  text,  '  Where 
two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name, 
there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them.'  After  preaching 
about  forty  minutes,  the  Lord  came  into  the  midst, 
sure  enough,  filled  the  hearts  of  Christians  with 
joy,  and  at  the  end  of  the  service  the  singular  fact 


CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISHOP   M'KENDREE.       127 

was  ascertained  that  there  was  not  a  single  soul 
present  but  what  was  rejoicing  in  God.  On  Sun- 
day the  congregation  was  large;  there  was  deep  at- 
tention; many  tears  and  shouts;  and  nine  persons 
were  added  to  the  Church. 

"The  camp-meeting  at  Suttle's,  for  Red  River 
Circuit,  commenced  on  Friday,  October  10.  This 
was  a  meeting  long  to  be  remembered  by  many. 
There  were  indeed  but  few  preachers,  but  the  best 
of  all  was  that  God  was  with  the  people,  and  be- 
tween forty  and  fifty  were  brought  to  a  saving 
knowledge  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  Christ. 

"  The  White  Bluff  camp-meeting,  for  Clarksville 
Station  and  Montgomery  Circuit,  commenced  Friday, 
October  17.  Here  Christians  had  not  only  to  con- 
tend with  the  powers  of  darkness,  but  with  the  cold 
weather,  the  frost,  and  the  ice;  yet  the  whole  proc- 
ess of  the  meeting  was  not  unlike  the  heating  of 
a  furnace.  On  Monday  evening  the  furnace  was  in 
full  blast,  and  a  soul  was  converted  about  every  ten 
minutes  for  hours  together,  and  upward  of  thirty 
were  born  to  God.  Upon  the  whole,  this  was  a 
glorious  meeting. 

"The  number  of  additions  to  the  Church  in  all 
these  meetings  was  about  equal  to  the  number  who 
professed  conversion." 

Dr.  Redford  says :  "At  the  age  of  twenty-seven 
Dr.  Green  is  the  Presiding  Elder  of  an  important 
District;  a  position  to  which,  at  that  time,  only  the 
best  and  ablest  ministers  were  appointed,  and  one 
requiring  not  only  skill  and  superior  administrative 
ability,  but  intellectual  endowments  of  a  high  order." 


128     CUMBERLAND    DISTRICT — BISHOP   M'KENDREE. 

While  on  this  District  we  find  him,  in  company 
with  F.  E.  Pitts  and  John  W.  Hannor,  on  a  mis- 
sionary tour  through  the  towns  and  villages  of  Mid- 
dle Tennessee,  beginning  at  Nashville.  He  is  also 
very  much  concerned  about  La  Grange  College, 
which  was  one  of  his  literary  pets.  His  devoted 
friend,  Dr.  (Bishop)  Paine,  was  president  at  this 
time;  Richard  H.  Rivers  and  Collins  D.  Elliott  were 
professors.  To  this  institution  he  contributed  his 
money  and  his  influence. 

In  1834  Mr.  Green  becomes  enlisted  in  a  very  pleas- 
ant and  entertaining  newspaper  discussion  with  Dr. 
(Bishop)  Paine,  which  was  continued  weekly  for  ten 
or  twelve  months.  Dr.  Paine  did  not  know  for 
some  months  who  was  his  opponent.  The  subject 
of  discussion  was,  "Are  the  American  Indians  the 
Lost  Tribes  of  Israel?" — Mr.  Green,  under  the  nom 
deplume  of  "Powhatan,"  affirming,  and  Dr.  Paine, 
under  the  nom  de  plume  of  "Southron,"  denying. 
This  discussion  displayed  a  deal  of  study  and  re- 
search. We  opine  that  the  two  antiquaries  tumbled 
the  cyclopedias  right  smartly.  We  are  impressed  that 
the  discussion  was  far  superior  to  the  subject.  Like 
the  alchemists,  they  did  not  find  the  stone,  but  they 
found  many  wonderful  things  more  valuable  than 
the  stone.  This  controversy,  on  account  of  its  length, 
will  not  be  published  with  Mr.  Green's  papers. 

The  Tennessee  Conference  beginning  November 
5, 1834,  was  held  in  Lebanon.  Bishops  McKendree 
and  Andrew  were  both  present. 

In  reading  Dr.  McFerrin's  account  of  this  Con- 
ference I  cannot  repress  a  smile  when  this  dignified 


CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISHOP   M'KENDREE.      129 

body  of  preachers  resolves  itself  into  a  temperance 
society,  and  resolves  each  member  into  a  temper- 
ance agent,  empowered  to  go  forth  and  organize  so- 
cieties, and  elects  that  staid,  sober  old  worthy, 
Joshua  Boucher,  as  president,  and  Thomas  L.  Doug- 
lass, Robert  Paine,  and  A.  L.  P.  Green,  as  vice-pres- 
idents of  the  Conference  society.  We  understand 
it:  at  this  time  the  war  against  King  Alcohol  was 
young,  and  the  crusaders  were  warm  in  the  fight. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1834  Bishop  Mc- 
Kendree  preached  his  last  sermon,  in  McKendree 
Church,  Nashville.  A.  L.  P.  Green,  his  great  ad- 
mirer and  traveling  companion,  was  present.  We 
will  hear  his  impressions  in  an  extract  from  his  elab- 
orate "Biographical  Sketch"*  of  the  Bishop,  edited 
by  Dr.  Summers: 

"I  can,  in  my  imagination,  see  him  this  moment, 
as  he  stood  on  the  walls  of  Zion,  with  his  sickle  in 
his  hand:  the  gray  hairs  thinly  covering  his  fore- 
head, his  pale  and  withered  face,  his  benignant  coun- 
tenance, his  speaking  eye  —  while  a  deep  under- 
current of  thought,  scarcely  veiled  by  the  external 
lineaments,  took  form  in  words,  and  fell  from  his 
trembling  lips,  as  by  the  eye  of  faith  he  transcended 
the  boundaries  of  time,  and  entered  upon  the  eternal 
world.  But  he  is  drawing  to  the  close  of  his  sermon. 
Now,  for  the  last  time,  he  bends  himself,  and  reaches 
his  sickle  forth,  to  reap  the  fields  ripe  for  the  harvest. 
How  balmy  the  name  of  Christ  as  he  breathes  it 
forth,  standing,  as  it  were,  midway  between  heaven 
and  earth,  and  pointing  to  the  home  of  the  faithful 

*This  sketch  is  not  among  Mr.  Green's  papers  in  this  book. 
6* 


130      CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISHOP  M'KENDREE. 

in  the  sky!  I  look  again:  the  sickle  sways  in  his 
hand,  his  strength  is  measured  out,  and  he  closes 
up  his  ministerial  labors  on  earth  with  the  words, 
'I  add  no  more,'  while  imagination  hears  the  re- 
sponse from  the  invisible  glory,  'It  is  enough  !" 

I  am  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  inserting  at  this 
place  a  parenthesis,  which  is  suggested,  in  part,  con 
amore: 

H.  R.  W.  Hill  had  employed  Mr.  John  Grimes 
to  paint  the  portrait  of  Bishop  McKendree.  Mr. 
Grimes  was  present  with  the  implements  of  his  art 
during  the  delivery  of  this  last  discourse.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  outlining  the  form  during  the  sermon, 
and  with  one  short  sitting,  afterward,  produced  a 
small  but  very  good  likeness. 

My  father  procured  the  services  of  Mr.  Washing- 
ton B.  Cooper,  an  artist  of  whom  Nashville  is  justly 
proud,  who,  from  the  picture  of  Mr.  Grimes,  painted 
another  portrait  of  the  Bishop,  much  larger,  and 
rich  in  imagery.  This  picture  has  been  much  ad- 
mired by  the  personal  friends  of  the  Bishop,  as  a 
likeness,  and  for  its  artistic  finish;  it  is  now  in  the 
keeping  of  my  brother  at  the  country  home.  I  re- 
member, when  a  child,  going  into  the  parlor  in 
a  spell  of  ill-temper,  and  being  run  out  by  the  re- 
proachful eyes  of  this  same  portrait. 

I  must  mention,  in  this  connection,  a  brace  of 
large-hearted  charities:  On  the  walls  of  the  Bish- 
ops' Room  in  the  Southern  Methodist  Publishing 
House  hang  the  portraits  of  Bishops  McKendree, 
"Wightman,  Soule,  McTyeire,  Kavanaugh,  Paine, 
Doggett,  Keener,  Pierce,  and  Marvin — all  the  pro- 


CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISHOP   M'KENDREE.     .131 

duction  of  the  genius  of  Washington  B.  Cooper, 
and  contributed  by  his  liberality.  They  are  as  per- 
fect as  human  skill  can  make  them;  and  it  becomes 
the  Methodist  Church  everywhere  to  honor  the 
noble  donor  who  has  contributed  so  much  to  the 
ocular  history  of  Methodism. 

Mr.  Green  visited  Bishop  McKendree  during  his 
hist  illness,  at  the  home  of  his  brother,  Dr.  McKen- 
dree, in  Sunnier  county.  We  have  his  own  account 
of  this  visit  in  the  "Biographical  Sketches."  He 
says:  "It  was  the  high  privilege  of  the  writer  to 
spend  a  night  with  him  just  before  his  death.  0 
how  rich  were  the  words  that  fell  from  his  lips! 
Among  other  things,  I  at  one  time  said  to  him, 
'Bishop,  I  may  live  when  you  have  passed  away, 
and  wherever  I  go  your  friends  will  want  to  hear 
from  you:  what  shall  I  say  to  them?'  To  which 
he  answered:  'Tell  them  for  me  that,  whether  for 
time  or  eternity,  all's  well!'  This  was  a  favorite 
saying  with  the  Bishop,  and  was  the  last  connected 
sentence  that  ever  fell  from  his  lips." 

Bishop  McKendree  died  in  the  spring  of  1835, 
and  by  his  own  request  Thomas  L.  Douglass  preached 
his  funeral-sermon;  but  the  members  of  McKen- 
dree, desiring  a  special  memorial  service  in  their 
own  church,  and  wanting  to  know  more  about  the 
good  man,  requested  A.  L.  P.  Green  to  deliver  a 
funeral  discourse,  which  he  did,  to  a  vast  congrega- 
tion, June  21,  1835.  This  memorial  was  published 
by  the  official  members  of  McKendree,  and  is  pre- 
served in  a  book  of  "Conference  Sermons." 

Now  a  digression.    A  traveler  stops  by  the  way  to 


132      CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISHOP   M'KENDREE. 

slake  his  thirst  from  a  spring  and  to  "rest  under 
the  shade  of  the  trees."  May  we  not  pause  occa- 
sionally, and  allow  our  poor,  enslaved  pen  a  recess, 
and  let  our  thoughts  at  random  go? 

Forty-one  years  after  the  interment  of  Bishop 
McKendree,  his  remains  were  exhumed  (in  1876), 
and  deposited  in  the  grounds  of  Vanderbilt  Univer- 
sity. At  the  same  time,  his  brother  in  Christ — 
Bishop  Soule — was  placed  by  his  side.  Through 
the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Groomes,  the  undertaker,  I  saw 
all  that  was  left  of  the  human  body  of  the  renowned 
McKendree — only  a  little  dust,  and  in  the  midst  the 
merest  shells  of  the  thigh-bone  and  the  skull;  this 
was  all.  And  this,  thought  I,  is  the  great  man 
whom  my  father  loved,  and  talked  so  much  about, 
and  whose  voice  was  heard  from  the  northern  lakes 
to  the  gulf!  My  faith — not  my  reason — came  to  the 
rescue:  This  is  not  McKendree;  it  is  his  mortal 
house,  all  gone  to  ruins,  and  in  mourning,  because 
of  the  absent  spirit.  Thank  God  that  the  "mouth 
of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it:"  "This  corruptible 
shall  put  on  incorruption!" 

Mr.  Green  delivered  an  address  to  the  young 
ladies  of  the  Nashville  Female  Academy,  December 
11,  1834,  on  the  occasion  of  the  semi-annual  exam- 
ination. This  institution  was  another  of  his  liter- 
ary wards.  He  was  trustee  during  the  administra- 
tion of  Messrs.  Elliott  and  Lapsley.  He  was  very 
fond  of  the  "Old  Academy,"  and  supplied  it  with 
very  substantial  pabulum. 

The  Tennessee  Conference  beginning  October  28, 
1835,  was  held  in  Florence,  Alabama.  Bishop  Soule 


CUMBERLAND   DISTRICT — BISHOP   M'KENDREE.     133 

was  present,  and  presided.  By  this  Conference  Mr. 
Green  was  elected  a  second  time  a  delegate  to  the 
General  Conference,  which  convened  in  Cincinnati, 
May  2,  1836.  During  the  sitting  of  this  General 
Conference,  tradition  says,  A.  L.  P.  Green  was  hos- 
pitably entertained  by  Mr.  Spencer,  whose  son  was 
afterward  mayor  of  the  city. 

Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing, 

With  a  heart  for  any  fate ; 
Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 

Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait. 


28. 

NASHVILLE  AGAIN — His  PREACHER 
ASSOCIATES. 

|N  the  autumn  of  1837  A.  L.  P.  Green  was 
appointed  again  to  the  Nashville  Station, 
with  Alexander  "Winbourne  assistant 
preacher,  and  Fountain  E.  Pitts  Presid- 
ing Elder.  Besides  McKendree,  there  were  College 
Side,  New  Hope,  and  some  irregular  preaching- 
places,  under  the  care  of  the  two  pastors. 

Dr.  McFerrin  says  ("Methodism  in  Tennessee," 
vol.  iii.,  p.  123):  "This  year  was  more  prosperous 
than  the  past,  taking  the  numbers  as  evidence.  The 
reports  were:  whites,  four  hundred  and  twenty- 
three;  colored,  four  hundred  and  seventy -five. 
There  was  no  missionary  to  the  colored  people,  but 
the  pastors  of  the  white  congregations  had  charge 
of  the  Africans.  There  was  a  missionary  appointed 
to  the  Cumberland  African  Mission — the  Rev.  John 
Rains — who  reported  four  hundred  and  twenty-five 
members. 

"  Mr.  Winbourne  was  a  noble  young  man,  whose 

race  was  short.     At  the  end  of  the  Conference-year 

he  was  transferred  to  the  Alabama  Conference,  and 

stationed  at  Greensboro.     His  health  failed,  and  he 

034) 


HIS    PREACHER   ASSOCIATES.  135 

returned  to  Nashville,  and  closed  his  useful  life  at 
the  residence  of  his  brother,  eight  miles  from  the 
city.  He  sleeps  in  the  Nashville  cemetery,  having 
died  in  the  faith.  A  neat  stone  marks  the  place  of 
his  repose,  erected  by  the  Tennessee  and  Alabama 
Conferences,  as  a  token  of  their  appreciation  of  this 
servant  of  God." 

As  far  back  as  my  memory  goes  I  remember 
Fountain  E.  Pitts.  He  received  rne  into  the  Church 
when  he  was  in  the  zenith  of  his  fame.  I  was  about 
nine  or  ten  years  old;  heard  the  great  preacher 
tower  on  one  of  his  tremendous  themes;  concluded 
it  would  be  best  for  me  to  join  the  Church,  and  so 
stated  to  my  father;  he  thought  so,  too;  led  me  up 
to  the  altar;  I  joined,  believing  that  there  was  a 
God,  a  heaven,  a  hell,  and  a  plan  of  salvation — that 
was  all,  and  that  was  enough. 

Fountain  E.  Pitts  blazed  over  the  land  like  a  me- 
teor. "Great  man!  the  people  gazed  and  wondered 
much,  and  praised." 

The  last  contribution  to  the  press  from  my  father's 
pen  was  the  obituary  of  Mr.  Pitts.  It  is  just  and 
true,  and  we  insert  it  in  full: 

"Fountain  Elliott  Pitts  was  born,  in  Georgetown, 
Kentucky,  July  4,  1808.  His  grandfathers  Pitts  and 
Craig  were  both  distinguished  Baptist  preachers. 
His  parents  died  while  he  was  quite  young;  but, 
being  well  connected  in  life,  his  relatives  took  charge 
of  the  young  orphan,  and  he  was  favored  with  a 
good  education  for  his  day,  and  at  an  early  age  gave 
signs  of  more  than  ordinary  promise.  He  was  a 
subject  of  converting  grace,  and  connected  himself 


136  NASHVILLE   AGAIN. 

with  the  Church  in  his  twelfth  year.  When  about 
sixteen  years  old  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  and  ad- 
mitted on  trial  into  the  Kentucky  Conference  in  the 
autumn  of  1824.  He  was  ordained  at  Russellville, 
by  Bishop  lloberts,  in  1826,  and  ordained  elder,  at 
Shelby ville,  by  Bishop  Soule,  in  1828,  and  that  au- 
tumn became  a  member  of  the  Tennessee  Confer- 
ence. In  1835  he  went  as  a  missionary  to  South 
America.  It  is  not  necessary  in  this  notice  to  fol- 
low him  through  his  various  appointments.  He 
was  missionary,  circuit-preacher,  stationed  preacher, 
and  Presiding  Elder.  He  married  while  young,  and, 
with  a  growing  family  on  his  hands,  had  to  contend 
with  the  difficulties  common  to  preachers  like  situ- 
ated in  those  times — namely,  heavy  work  and  light 
pay.  His  life  of  labor  and  privation  was  incident 
to  the  heroic  age  of  the  Church.  Brother  Pitts  was 
by  nature  richly  endowed.  He  was  a  little  below 
medium  size,  fair  skin,  light  hair,  and  blue  eyes, 
and  when  young  was  regarded  rather  handsome. 
His  temperament  was  sanguine,  always  hopeful. 
His  head  was  large,  and  his  intellectual  powers,  in 
many  respects,  were  of  the  highest  order,  and  he 
was  highly  gifted  as  a  speaker.  His  voice  was  fall, 
clear,  and  musical;  his  enunciation  distinct;  his 
manner  was  deliberate,  grave,  solemn,  and  persua- 
sive; his  language  was  always  well -suited  to  his 
subject.  He  knew  the  way  not  only  to  the  heads 
but  to  the  hearts  of  his  hearers,  which  gave  him 
extraordinary  power  to  control  and,  at  will,  to  move 
the  multitude.  He  preached  generally  without  a 
manuscript,  or  even  a  note;  but  by  long  practice, 


HIS   PREACHER   ASSOCIATES.  137 

retentive  memory,  and  well-balanced  mind,  lie  was 
seldom  at  fault  in  his  style.  He  understood  the 
doctrines  of  the  Church,  and  faithfully  did  he  de- 
fend them.  Although  his  mind  was  of  a  poetical 
cast,  with  a  rich  fancy  and  brilliant  imagination, 
yet  he  was  never  carried  off  into  extreme  views  or 
doubtful  theories,  but  was  always  sound  in  doctrine. 
He  was,  at  one  period  of  his  life,  one  of  the  most 
powerful  field-preachers  that  I  ever  listened  to.  A 
camp -meeting,  especially,  seemed  to  inspire  him; 
there  he  showed  the  full  measure  of  his  strength. 
He  preached  generally  for  immediate  effect,  and  was 
wonderfully  successful  in  securing  the  fruits  of  his 
labor.  He  sang  well;  when  in  his  prime  he  pre- 
ferred a  solo,  and  sang  to  effect,  consulting  his  own 
ear  and  taste  rather  than  science  in  singing.  He 
was  powerful  in  prayer  and  exhortation,  and  labored 
with  great  success  in  the  altar.  He  loved  his  work 
— all  parts  of  it — and  was  never  idle.  A  dull,  dry 
meeting  rendered  him  unhappy,  and  sometimes 
seemingly  impatient;  but  when  the  ark  moved  for- 
ward he  was  happy.  He  was  a  man  of  large  heart, 
and  full  of  sympathy,  entering  into  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  all  about  him.  He  was  devoted  to  his 
friends,  and  decidedly  a  man  of  peace.  So  strong 
were  his  sympathies,  so  large  his  hopes,  so  confiding 
his  nature,  that  caution  seemed  to  be  overwhelmed, 
making  him  in  business  matters  too  sanguine  for  a 
safe  trader.  But  as  he  grew  older  his  thoughts 
turned  almost  entirely  to  spiritual  things,  and  he 
became  more  and  more  devoted  to  the  interest  of 
the  Church.  His  conversation  was  almost  entirely 


138  NASHVILLE    ACAIX. 

of  the  Church,  the  things  of  God,  and  the  salvation 
of  his  soul.  All  his  powers  were  employed  in  serv- 
ing the  Church,  frequently  preaching  two  or  three 
times  in  a  day.  He  preached  twice  the  last  Sabbath 
he  spent  on  earth.  His  last  sermon  was  preached 
in  Shelbyville,  Kentucky,  at  night.  On  the  next 
mornin«r  he  returned  to  Louisville,  and  took  his 

O  ' 

place  in  the  General  Conference,  of  which  he  was  a 
member.  In  the  evening  he  went  to  Mr.  E.  D. 
Ilobbs's,  a  relative  of  his,  some  twelve  miles  out, 
and  for  two  or  three  days  was  complaining  of  a 
slight  indisposition.  At  length  he  suddenly  grew 
worse,  and  on  the  12th  of  May,  1874,  he  fell  asleep 
in  the  arms  of  his  Saviour.  Dr.  McFerrin  sang  a 
few  verses  of  the  old  song,  '  How  firm  a  foundation, 
ye  saints  of  the  Lord;''  at  the  close  of  the  second 
verse  he  said,  'That's  true!'  He  then  said,  'He 
that  believeth  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  hath  eternal 
life,'  and,  repeating  the  words  'eternal  life'  several 
times,  died  writh  the  words  'eternal  life'  on  his  lips. 
"  His  body  was  brought  to  Louisville,  and  taken 
to  Wai  nut -street  Church.  The  members  of  the 
Conference,  in  a  body,  came  together  to  pay  respect 
to  his  memory.  Bishop  Paine  and  Dr.  McFerrin 
made  appropriate  and  touching  remarks,  and  wide- 
spread and  general  was  the  feeling  produced.  His 
body  was  then  transferred  to  McKendree  Church, 
Nashville,  where  all  the  preachers  of  the  city  and 
neighborhood,  with  a  vast  multitude  of  his  old 
friends  and  acquaintances,  came  together,  and,  with 
suitable  service,  consigned  him  to  his  last  resting- 
place.  His  life  was  a  success.  He  won  many  souls 


HIS    PREACIIER    ASSOCIATES.  139 

for  Christ,  finished  his  work  in  triumph,  and  has 
gone  to  his  reward.  May  God  bless  those  who  arc 
left  behind!" 

The  tongues  of  dying  men 

Enforce  attention,  like  deep  harmony; 

Where  words  are  scarce,  they're  seldom  spent  in  vain; 

For  they  breathe  truth  that  breathe  their  words  in  pain. 


29. 
NASHVILLE  STATION — CANADA  QUESTION. 

|N  the  autumn  of  1838  A.  L.  P.  Green  was 
returned  to  the  Nashville  Station,  with  W. 
1).  F.  Sawrie  junior  preacher,  and,  on  ac- 
count of  the  increase  in  the  work,  one  to 
be  supplied.  This  was  Mr.  Green's  fifth  appoint- 
ment to  the  Nashville  Station,  and  indeed  his  last 
year  as  a  station-preacher. 

"  There  was  a  good  work  this  year  (in  Nashville), 
but,  strange  to  say,  no  statistical  reports  from  the 
Conference  were  furnished  the  editor  of  the  General 
Minutes."  ("Methodism  in  Tennessee.") 

Mr.  Sawrie,  the  colleague  of  my  father  this  year, 
was  emphatically  "a  son  of  thunder."  In  a  revival- 
meeting  he  was,  and  is  now,  a  host.  More  of  a 
hortative  than  a  didactic  preacher,  he  rushes,  like 
an  unbridled  cyclone,  to  a  conclusion.  My  father, 
when  he  went  forth  to  his  big  meetings,  was  delighted 
to  have  Mr.  Sawrie  with  him. 

A  long  residence  in  Nashville,  and  the  influence  of 
secular  matters,  has  somewhat  dampened  and  sub- 
dued his  ardor,  but  at  times,  when  the  sound  of  the 
camp-meeting  horn  falls  on  his  ear,  the  old  fire  re- 
kindles, and  he  is  again  Sawrie  of  1840.  We  are  ex- 
(140; 


NASHVILLE   STATION — CANADA   QUESTION.  141 

peoting,  when  a  few  years  are  gone,  and  the  setting 
sun  has  mellowed  his  heart,  that  he  will  perform 
more  deeds  of  valor  than  in  the  past. 

He  was  admitted  into  the  Tennessee  Conference 
on  trial  in  the  autumn  of  1831  —  Dr.  Richard  H. 
Rivers  was  a  member  of  his  class.  He  has  tilled  the 
most  conspicuous  appointments  in  the  Conference, 
and  at  this  time  is  Presiding  Elder  of  the  Murfrees- 
boro  District. 

A.  L.  P.  Green  was  not  elected  by  the  Tennessee 
Conference  of  1839  a  delegate  to  the  General  Con- 
ference in  1840.  The  cause  of  his  non-election  is 
not  conjectural.  I  am  reminded  of  a  clause  in  the 
marriage-service :  "  Let  him  now  speak,  or  else  here- 
after forever  hold  his  peace."  We  arise  to  explain. 

A  man  may  ask  no  questions — it  is  better  that  he 
should  not — if  he  has  never  been  taken  up;  but  to 
be  taken  up  and  set  down  demands  an  explanation. 
If  a  man  becomes  displeased  with  me,  I  am  not  sat- 
isfied in  full  for  him  to  become  pleased  until  he 
states  why  he  was  displeased.  No  respectable  man, 
at  the  caprice  of  his  neighbor,  is  morally  required 
to  be  "a  vessel  unto  honor  and  unto  dishonor." 
Mr.  Green  was  a  member  of  every  General  Confer- 
ence of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  up 
to  the  time  of  his  death.  In  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church  he  was  a  member  of  the  General  Con- 
ference in  1832,  1836,  and  1844,  but  not  in  1840. 
He  was  a  growing  man,  and  was  not  less,  but 
more,  a  leader  in  1839  than  in  1831  and  1835.  The 
reader  inquires,  "  "What  was  the  matter? "  The  an- 
swer is  found  in  the  proceedings  of  the  Tennessee 


142          NASHVILLE    STATION — CANADA    QUESTION. 

Conference  on  the  "Canada  Question."  We  will 
hear  the  testimony  of  the  Rev.  William  E.  Doty, 
now  of  the  Louisiana,  but  formerly  of  the  Tennes- 
see, Conference. 

Mr.  Doty  says:  "When  the  Canada  Conference 
thought  it  best  to  disconnect  itself  from  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church  in  the  United  States,  it 
asked  for  its  proportion  of  the  funds  of  the  Book 
Concern  and  Chartered  Fund.  Dr.  Green  took  the 
position  that  it  was  just  and  right.  When  the  vote 
was  put,  I  alone  stood  up  with  him.  Years  after- 
ward, when  he  was  prosecuting  the  suit  for  the  inter- 
est of  the  South,  the  attorney  for  the  North  made 
a  strong  point,  asserting  that  'the  vote  in  the  Ten- 
nessee Conference  was  unanimous  against  the  claim 
of  the  Canadians/  and  pointed  at  and  derided  Dr. 
Green  for  prosecuting  a  suit  in  his  own  name  against 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  when  the  princi- 
ple was  the  same  in  the  Canada  case.  The  South- 
ern lawyer  said,  'Dr.  Green,  that  is  bard  on  us;' 
'but,'  said  the  Doctor,  'there  is  not  a  word  of  truth 
in  it.'  'Thank  God  for  that!'  said  the  attorney. 
Dr.  Green  told  me  that  'he  (his  lawryer)  withered  the 
Northern  attorney  for  his  want  of  information,  as 
he  had  been  paid  to  inform  himself,  and  the  record 
of  the  Tennessee  Conference  was  before  him.'  He 
turned  to  the  page,  and  there  stood  two  votes  for 
the  Canadians— A.  L.  P.  Green  and  W.  E.  Doty." 

We  add  the  testimony  of  Dr.  J.  W.  Hanner: 
"One  quadrennial  Dr.  Green  was  not  elected;  his 
vote  defeated  him.  It  was  the  Canada  Question,  or 
something  of  that  sort;  whether  a  certain  body  of 


NASHVILLE    STATION — CANADA    QUESTION.          143 

Methodists  set  oil  from  the  Church  should  have 
their  share  of  the  Book  Concern  and  other  prop- 
erty. He  voted  right;  there  was  the  man,  and  that 
was  heroism ! 

Majorities  are  no  proof  that  you  will  right  be  found; 
Few  were  saved  in  the  ark  for  many  millions  drowned." 

So  we  conclude  that  he  was  snubbed  in  1839  that 
the  Church  might  be  honored  in  1850.  This  is  a 
clear  case  of  loss  and  gain.  His  great  heart  would 
not  have  had  it  otherwise,  for  there  are  times  when 
"the  post  of  honor  is  the  private  station." 

I  have  been  closely  following  my  father  through 
a  chain  of  appointments  from  1824  to  1839.  The 
chapters  that  follow  will  not  be  shaped  by  any  chro- 
nological or  Conference  guage;  they  will  be,  in  a 
very  sporadic  sense,  miscellaneous,  without  any 
great  violence  to  the  unities  and  proprieties.  To 
avoid  repetition,  I  will  make  no  reference  to  a  deal 
of  matter  contained  in  my  father's  papers.  Dr. 
Green,  after  1840,  becomes  the  servant  of  the  whole 
Church;  so  with  a  willing  heart,  if  not  a  capable 
mind,  we  put  out  to  sea,  hoping  that  a  propitious 
spirit  will  direct  us  at  what  ports  to  touch  and  how 
long  to  stay.  However,  before  setting  out,  we  will 
take  a  general  reckoning,  or  bird's-eye  view. 

A.  L.  P.  Green  was  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  for 
fifty  years.  He  was  on  circuits  five  years,  on  sta- 
tions six  years,  on  Districts  thirty-four  years,  Finan- 
<  ial  Secretary  of  the  Vanderbilt  two  years.  He  was 
a  Presiding  Elder  continuously — omitting  the  war 
interregnum  of  1862,  1863,  and  1864— until  his 


144          NASHVILLE    STATION — CANADA    QUESTION. 

health  failed,  in  1872.  He  filled  the  following  ap- 
pointments: Jackson  Circuit  two  years,  Limestone 
Circuit  two  years,  Madison  Circuit  one  year,  Nash- 
ville Station  live  years,  Franklin  Station  one  year, 
Cumberland  District  four  years,  Lebanon  District 
five  years,  Nashville  District  twelve  years,  Gallatin 
District  one  year,  Clarksville  District  four  years, 
Edgefield  District  one  year,  Murfreesboro  District 
four  years,  Columbia  District  three  years. 


3O. 
INCIDENTALS  ON  THE  DISTRICTS. 

the  autumn  of  1839  A.  L.  P.  Green  was 
appointed  to  the  Lebanon  District,  and  in 
1840  to  the  Nashville  District,  on  which 
he  continued  four  years. 
Dr.  Robert  A.  Young  says :  "  I  remember  well  the 
day,  in  September,  1842,  when  fame  first  reported  to 
my  ears  the  name  of  A.  L.  P.  Green.  I  had  been 
converted  at  one  camp-meeting,  and  had  journeyed 
straightway  to  another,  at  Middleton  Settlements,  in 
East  Tennessee.  There  I  met  a  well-dressed  coun- 
tryman, who  informed  me  that  we  were  not  far  from 
the  neighborhood  where  Dr.  Green  was  born.  And 
who  is  Dr.  Green?  thought  I;  and  is  he  a  greater 
man  than  Thomas  Stringfield?  The  gentleman  ad- 
mitted that  in  controversial  theology  Brother  String- 
field  was  a  match  for  the  strongest — even  for  Dr.  F. 
A.  Ross — but  Dr.  Green  was  a  poet,  an  orator,  a  re- 
vivalist, a  financier,  an  ecclesiastical  statesman,  who 
lived  in  Nashville.  And  I  remember  all  this." 

For  four  years,  beginning  in  the  autumn  of  1844, 

my  father  served  as  Presiding  Elder  on  the  Clarks- 

ville  District.     I  have  now  in  my  memory  a  host 

of  camp-meetings  on  this  District;  great,  glorious 

7  (145) 


146  INCIDKNTALS    OX    THE    DISTKICTS. 

meetings  they  wore,  and  hundreds  were  added  to 
the  Church.  I  attended  one  of  them,  and,  notwith- 
standing my  youth,  was  very  much  /////>/Y.WV/.  I 
hope  the  reader's  dignity  will  not  he  offended.  I 
am  about  to  relate  history  that  has  to  do  with  two 
of  God's  creatures.  Lions  are  not  the  smallest 
biting  things  in  the  world,  and  I  have  known  the 
profoundest  men  to  forget  their  gravity  during  an 
attack  on  the  cuticle  and  upper  fascia  of  the  spinal 
column.  It  is  singular  that  a  good  thing  and  a 
great  thing  should  suggest  a  very  small  thing.  I 
never  hear  the  word  camp-meeting  ^  however  indis- 
tinctly articulated,  that  my  mind  does  not  revert 
to  fleas.  I  remember  how  they  tormented  me,  at- 
tacked me  on  the  flanks,  and  surrounded  me.  I 
have  a  vivid  recollection  of  retiring  for  the  night 
in  a  division  of  the  camp  assigned  to  the  sisters. 
There  were  between  twenty-five  and  fifty  of  the 
sisters,  and  between  twenty-five  and  fifty  thousand 
others,  male,  and  female.  I  remember,  after  suffer- 
ing extreme  torture,  sinking  into  a  disturbed  sleep, 
and  awaking  with  a  start,  almost  suffocated;  and 
then  such  a  scene  of  carnage  as  presented  itself! 
Not  a  female  eye  had  been  closed — the  order  of  the 
night  was  a  grand  campaign  against  the  fleas,  under 
the  black  flag;  tbe  morning  dawned,  but  there  was 
no  cessation  of  hostilities.  I  cannot  recall  the  name 
of  a  single  person  who  was  converted  at  this  meet- 
ing. "With  the  exception  of  my  father  and  the  Rev. 
William  Burr,  I  do  not  remember  who  preached; 
and  yet  I  pronounce  it  a  feeling  occasion,  and  the 
impression  lingers  with  me  still.  Fleas  still  go  to 


INCIDENTALS    ON    THE    DISTRICTS.  147 

camp-meeting,  and  are  still  fond  of  little  boys  and 
women — fond  of  the  former  because  of  their  free- 
dom from  the  flavor  of  tobacco,  and  of  the  latter, 
especially  the  young  ones,  because  of  their  tender- 
ness. 

We  copy  an  extract  from  a  letter  of  the  Rev. 
Golman  Green,  "the  old  man  eloquent,"  whom  my 
father  respected  and  loved.  Mr.  Green,  at  this 
writing,  is  an  old  man,  buoyant  in  spirit  and  vigor- 
ous in  health.  He  is  both  semper  felix  and  semper 
fidelis.  He  is  not  a  circuit-rider,  but  a  camp-meeting 
rider,  and  during  the  meeting-season,  in  the  summer 
and  autumn,  "  renews  his  youth."  "When  the  camp- 
meeting  horn  shall  be  heard  no  more,  the  days  of 
the  old  man  will  be  numbered.  Mr.  Green  says: 

"I  furnish  you  a  narrative  of  events  that  occurred 
in  Robertson  county,  Tennessee,  while  your  father 
was  on  the  Clarksville  District. 

"We  reached  the  camp-ground  on  Friday  even- 
ing. Ministerial  help  was  very  scarce.  Dr.  Green 
got  up  in  the  pulpit,  in  his  usual  calm  way,  and 
said:  'I  know  you  are  all  very  much  out  of  heart; 
you  have  built  a  very  fine  shelter.  Now,  if*  you 
will  keep  up  the  altar  exercises,  Uncle  Golman  and 
I  will  do  the  preaching  until  Wednesday  or  Thurs- 
day evening.'  I  tell  you  he  did  preach  like  an  angel 
from  heaven.  Tuesday  night  he  preached  on  Pro- 
crastination, which  was  the  most  powerful  appeal 
that  I  ever  heard  on  that  subject.  At  its  close  about 
forty  persons  came  forward  for  prayer;  but  inky 
darkness  seemed  to  overspread  the  whole  assembly. 
Dr.  Groen  was  so  tired  that  he  lay  down  in  the 


148  INCIDENTALS   ON   THE   DISTRICTS. 

camp  to  rest.  You  know  how  he  loved  Brother 
Carr.  Said  he,  '  Carr,  go  into  the  altar,  and  sing.' 
Carr  went  hopping  in,  and  commenced  singing, 
'Fare  you  well,  I  am  going  home,'  and  the  clouds 
broke.  Thirty  or  forty  persons  were  powerfully 
converted  in  ten  minutes.  I  went  into  the  preach- 
ers' tent,  and  found  your  father  sitting  on  the  side 
of  the  bed,  with  tears  as  large  as  beads  rolling  down 
his  face.  He  said,  'Carr's  singing  was  as  straight 
as  any  finger;  there,  it  must  have  been  the  power  of 
God!0' 

Dr.  Young  says:  "I  rode  into  .Nashville  in  1846, 
with  the  intention  of  joining  the  Tennessee  Confer- 
ence, if  I  should  be  found  worthy.  It  was  when  we 
used  to  have  opening  sermons.  The  old  McKendree 
Church  was  crowded,  galleries  and  all.  Dr.  Green 
was  the  preacher,  and  one  young  hero- worshiper  was 
delighted.  A  year  to  prepare  a  sermon,  and  no 
manuscript — not  even  that  notably  dull  contriv- 
ance called  'notes.'  The  Doctor  just  held  forth  at 
his  own  sweet  will." 

When  he  spoke,  what  tender  words  he  used! 
So  softly  that,  like  flakes  of  feathered  snow, 
They  melted  as  they  fell. 


31. 

HISTORIA  SACRA. 

S"  the  autumn  of  1848  Dr.  Green  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  Lebanon  District,  and  in 
the  autumn  of  1852  to  the  Nashville  Dis- 
trict, serving  four  years  on  each. 
Between  1843  and  1852  there  were  "matters  of 
great  pith  and  moment."  It  was  one  of  the  destiny 
periods  of  Methodism.  There  was  the  General 
Conference  of  1844  in  New  York,  with  its  great 
speeches  on  the  cases  of  Harding  and  Bishop  An- 
drew; and  the  "Plan  of  Separation,"  a  very  sensi- 
ble, honest  document,  which  was  mummified  and 
laid  away  in  the  joint  museum  of  the  Churches; 
and  then  followed  the  Convention  of  the  Southern 
wing,  in  1845,  in  the  city  of  Louisville,  and  that 
very  exhaustive,  lucid,  and  historical  paper,  called 
the  "  Report,"  which  is  an  admirable  expose  of  the 
Southern  Methodists  on  the  slavery  question  and 
other  matters.  Then  follows  the  first  General  Con- 
ference of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South, 
in  Petersburg,  Virginia,  in  1846;  and  the  General 
Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  in 
1848,  in  Pittsburg,  Pennsylvania;  and  the  second 
General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 

(149) 


150  HISTORIA    SACRA. 

Church,  South,  in  1850,  held  in  St.  Louis,  Missouri. 
And  the  Chun-h  suits  lu-gan  in  1850. 

Now,  gentle  iviuK-r,  will  you  have  a  digest  of  all 
tlirsi'  Conferences,  with  a  detailed  account  of  the 
"Convention"  and  the  "Church  suits?"  I  do  not 
think  that  you  are  able  to  bear  it.  Indeed,  we  are 
standing  in  the  presence  of  a  triumvirate,  who  have 
invested  all  the  field — Dr.  Myers  and  Dr.  Redford, 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  and  Dr. 
Elliott,  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  The 
end  of  this  great  controversy  is  not  yet,  and,  we 
opine,  will  not  be  until  the  champions  who  fought 
in  the  arena  of  1844  have  been  gathered  to  their 
fathers.  There  is  now  too  much  of  the  ccdesiasticiun 
odium  to  allow  a  fair  discussion.  Indeed,  judging 
from  the  proceedings  of  certain  Northern  Confer- 
ences, the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  has  not  fully 
realized  that  African  slavery  in  the  South  is  non  est. 
Prejudice  will  not  take  its  flight  until  the  bone  of 
contention  is  disintegrated  and  scattered  to  the  winds 
— not  even  the  fossil  must  remain.  We  will  perpe- 
trate a  mathematical  antithesis,  by  taking  a  few 
specimen  bricks  from  the  pyramids,  and  leaving  be- 
hind just  as  many  as  there  were  at  first. 

Dr.  Green  was  a  member  of  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  1844.  There  are  many  things  that  we  should 
like  to  know,  that  the  dignified  journalist,  or  secre- 
tary of  a  General  Conference,  will  not  condescend 
to  chronicle.  We  have  the  tradition  that,  with  an 
end  in  view,  he  was  incessantly  and  persistently  at 
work  during  this  session.  He  was  only  thirty-eight 
years  of  age,  and  therefore  did  not  take  an  active 


IIISTORIA    SACRA.  151 

part  in  all  the  deliberations  on  the  Conference- 
floor;  for  there  were  many  silver-haired  men  there, 
whose  memories  were  teeming  with  the  history  of 
the  Church.  Whatever  were  the  outward  phases 
of  discussion,  "African  Slavery"  was  the  absorbing 
nucleus,  about  which  all  hearts  and  minds  gathered, 
dreading  the  result,  and  yet  satisfied  that  it  would 
be  for  the  best  that  the  discussion  which  had  been 
disturbing  and  agitating  the  Church  for  nearly  fifty 
years  should  come  to  an  end.  In  the  cases  of  Har- 
ding and  Andrew  the  question  had  assumed  shape, 
and  could  be  waived  no  longer. 

Dr.  A.  H.  Bedford  says:  "The  discussion  was 
continued  till  the  30th  of  May,  during  which  time, 
in  addition  to  the  speeches  already  referred  to, 
Messrs.  Hamline,  of  Ohio,  Cartwright,  of  Illinois, 
and  Dr.  Durbin,  of  Philadelphia,  addressed  the  Con- 
ference in  favor  of  the  substitute,  and  Messrs.  Green, 
of  Tennessee,  Smith,  of  Virginia,  Stamper,  of  Illi- 
nois, Sehon,  of  Ohio,  Dunwody,  and  Dr.  Capers,  of 
South  Carolina,  against  it.  The  speeches  delivered 
on  this  occasion  have  seldom  been  equaled  and  never 
surpassed  in  the  Senate  Chamber  of  the  United 
States."  ("  Organization  of  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church,  South.") 

For  the  benefit  of  the  reader  who  may  not  have  a 
History  convenient,  I  subjoin  the  radical  and  noto- 
rious "Substitute:" 

""WHEREAS,  The  Discipline  of  our  Church  forbids 
the  doing  of  any  thing  calculated  to  destroy  our 
itinerant  general  superintendency;  and  whereas, 
Bishop  Andrew  has  become  connected  with  slavery 


152  HISTORIA    SACRA. 

by  marriage  and  otherwise,  and  this  act  having 
drawn  after  it  circumstances  which,  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  General  Conference,  will  greatly  embar- 
rass the  exercise  of  his  office  as  an  itinerant  General 
Superintendent,  if  not  in  some  places  entirely  pre- 
vent it;  therefore, 

"Resolved,  That  it  is  the  sense  of  this  General 
Conference  that  he  desist  from  the  exercise  of  this 
office  so  long  as  the  impediment  remains. 

"  J.  B.  FINLEY, 
"J.  M.  TRIMBLE." 

Examples  I  could  cite  you  more; 
But  be  contented  with  these  four; 
For  when  one's  proofs  are  aptly  chosen, 
Four  are  as  valid  as  four  dozen. 


32. 
DOCTOR  OF  DIVINITY. 

|N  the  first  day  of  October,  1845,  the  hon- 
orary degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was 
conferred  by  the  University  of  Nashville 
on  Messrs.  A.  L.  P.  Green,  Robert  A. 
Lapsley,  and  John  T.  Wheat.  Mr.  Lapsley  was  a 
Presbyterian  minister,  and  Mr.  Wheat  a  Protestant 
Episcopal  clergyman.  This  degree  may  be  esteemed 
more  an  honor  as  Mr.  Green  was  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  every  member  of  the  Faculty. 

I  am  indebted  for  information  to  Dr.  J.  Berrien 
Lindsley,  ex-chancellor  of  the  University  of  Nash- 
ville, and  son  of  Dr.  Philip  Lindsley,  deceased,  who 
is  at  present  connected  with  the  Nashville  Board  of 
Health,  and  I  believe  at  this  date  is  the  most  promi- 
nent man  in  the  State  in  the  department  of  archae- 
ology. He  has  the  second-sight  and  fossiliferous  av- 
arice of  an  antiquary,  and  carefully  stores  away  that 
which  is  strange  and  that  which  is  old.  He  is  at 
present  preparing  a  work  of  memories,  which  will  be 
of  great  interest  to  all  our  citizens  who  love  to  read 
about  those  great  men  who  brought  religion  and 
civilization  to  the  valleys  of  Tennessee,  and  whose 
dust  is  still  with  us. 

7*  (153) 


154  DOCTOR  OF   DIVINITY. 

Dr.  Lindsley  says:  "At  the  Commencement  of 
the  University  of  Nashville,  held  October  1,  1845, 
the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  conferred 
upon  A.  L.  P.  Green.  Dr.  Philip  Lindsley,  then 
la-ad  of  the  University,  was  remarkably  chary  in 
conferring  such  honors,  as  the  University  catalogue 
during  his  long  administration  fully  shows.  Dr. 
Green  at  that  time  was  comparatively  a  young  man, 
and  the  honor  came  entirely  unsought.  President 
Lindsley  knew  him  well,  and  esteemed  him  highly 
as  a  man  of  solid  native  parts,  of  indomitable  en- 
ergy, and  of  high  promise  for  usefulness  in  the 
Church  and  to  the  public  at  large.  Until  President 
Lindsley's  removal  from  Nashville  in  1850,  a  very 
cordial  and  friendly  intercourse  was  kept  up  be- 
tween the  two  Doctors;  the  President  viewing  with 
marked  satisfaction  his  friend's  growing  reputation 
as  an  orator  and  a  writer." 

In  running  my  eye  over  the  honorary  list  of  the 
University  of  Nashville,  I  find  the  names  of  a  num- 
ber of  my  father's  nearest  and  best  friends,  all  of 
whom,  but  one,  have  been  honored  by  their  Heav- 
enly Father  with  crowns  of  righteousness.  Upon 
Bishop  Paine  was  conferred  the  degree  of  Master 
of  Arts,  in  1826;  and  the  same  degree  upon  Robert 
B.  C.  Howell,  in  1839.  Bishop  Soule  was  elected 
Doctor  of  Divinity  in  1827,  John  T.  Edgar  in  1834, 
and  A.  K,  Erwin  in  1856. 

We  yield  to  the  temptation  of  inserting  a  para- 
graph at  this  point. 

The  conferring  of  honorary  degrees  by  the  uni- 
versities has,  in  a  private  way,  been  severely  criti- 


DOCTOR   OF   DIVINITY.  155 

cised  by  seemingly  neglected  or  disappointed  parties. 
The  allegation  is  not  that  the  universities  reach  too 
high,  but  sometimes  stoop  too  low — even  bartering 
their  honors  for  influence.  .We  have  never  heard 
this  matter  fully  discussed,  and  question  whether  in 
most  instances  the  assumptions  can  be  sustained. 
There  is  a  wide  divergence  between  the  degrees  of 
A.M.  and  D.D.  I  suppose  an  education,  however 
complete,  would  not  entitle  just  any  man  to  either 
of  these  degrees.  It  would  require  the  most  skill- 
ful diplomacy  and  disgusting  favoritism  to  steer  an 
educated  fool  through  a  respectable  Faculty  into  the 
Doctorate  of  Divinity.  This  honor  is  conferred 
not  so  much  upon  classically  educated  men  as  upon 
wise  men.  It  may  be  assumed  that  a  Doctor  of  Di- 
vinity, whether  a  preacher  or  a  layman,  is  learned 
in  biblical  knowledge.  When  the  eyes  of  a  uni- 
versity are  turned  upon  a  preacher  with  honorable 
intentions,  the  question  is  naturally  sprung,  Has  he 
succeeded  in  the  central  idea?  in  other  words,  Can 
Tie  preach  effectively  ?  A  good  chair-maker  is  not 
simply  one  who  has  an  abundance  of  good  material, 
but  one  who  can  make  a  strong,  good  chair.  I  have 
very  much  admired  the  honors  of  some  men,  done 
up  in  gilt  frames  and  hung  up  on  the  wall;  I  have 
struggled  through  the  Latin  sentences,  and  then, 
like  a  child,  have  turned  to  the  men  themselves  and 
wondered,  "Is  it  possible?"  We  conclude  that  he 
is  not  a  wise  preacher  who  cannot  put  to  a  practical 
account  what  he  knows,  for  wisdom  is  wiser  than 
learning.  A.  L.  P.  Green  was  selected  as  a  suitable 
person  upon  whom  to  confer  the  degree  of  Doctor 


156  DOCTOR  OF   DIVINITY. 

of  Divinity  for  the  reason  that  he  was  a  wise  man, 
was  learned  in  practical  theology,  knew  men,  and 
knew  how  to  preach  to  them. 

The  reader  will  pardon  another  short  paragraph, 
as  this  is  my  first  and  will  be  my  last  opportunity 
to  instruct  the  universities.  As  a  class,  the  men 
who  become  candidates  for  collegiate  preferment  are 
not  solely  influenced  by  the  greed  for  honor;  there 
is  a  matter  of  utility  that  comes  in.  Like  a  sailor 
who  puts  his  vessel  under  a  full  spread  of  canvas, 
with  an  eye  to  the  practical  as  well  as  the  beautiful, 
so  the  candidate  for  university  favors,  while  he  is 
pleased  with  the  anticipated  honor,  contemplates 
filling  his  sails  with  wind  and  gliding  with  more 
celerity  through  some  literary  enterprise. 

How  empty  learning,  and  how  vain  is  art, 
But  as  it  mends  the  life  and  guides  the  heart  1 


33. 

THE  CHUECH  SUITS. 

SHE  first  General  Conference  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church,  South,  convened 
in  Petersburg,  Virginia,  on  the  first  day 
of  May,  1846.     This  Conference  adopted 
the  following  report: 

"Resolved,  by  the  Delegates  of  the  several  Annual 
Conferences  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South, 
in  General  Conference  assembled,  That  three  com- 
missioners be  appointed,  in  accordance  with  the 
Plan  of  Separation  adopted  by  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  1844,  to 
act  in  concert  with  the  commissioners  appointed  by 
the  said  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  to  estimate 
the  amount  due  to  the  South  according  to  the  afore- 
said Plan  of  Separation,  with  full  power  to  carry 
into  effect  the  whole  arrangement  with  regard  to 
said  division. 

"Resolved,  That  John  Early  be,  and  he  is  hereby, 
authorized  to  act  as  the  agent  or  appointee  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  in  conformity 
to  the  Plan  of  Separation." 

There  were  four  resolutions  in  connection  with 
the  above  that  we  think  not  necessary  to  insert. 

(157) 


158  THE    CHURCH    SUITS.  ;. 

"Immediately  after  the  adoption  of  tins  report, 
the  Conference  proceeded  to  the  election  of  com- 
missioners by  ballot,  and  on  the  first  balloting 
H.  B.  Bascom,  A.  L.  P.  Green,  and  S.  A.  Latta 
were  elected.  Nathan  Bangs,  George  Peck,  and 
, I  nines  B.  Finley  had  been  appointed  commissioners 
on  the  part  of  the  Church  (North)  to  act  in  concert 
with  the  same  number  of  commissioners  appointed 
by  the  Southern  organization. 

"On  the  25th  of  August,  1846,  Messrs.  Bascom, 
Green,  and  Latta  met  in  Cincinnati,  and  addressed 
a  communication  to  the  commissioners  appointed 
by  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church."  For  the  cor- 
respondence between  these  commissioners  I  must 
refer  the  reader  to  the  "Organization  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church,  South,"  as  it  is  too  long  for 
insertion.  However,  I  must  state  that  the  North- 
ern commissioners  concluded  that  they  (themselves) 
had  no  authority,  and  therefore  respectfully  declined 
to  act  in  the  premises,  as  their  action  would  (to  use 
their  own  language)  "be  null  and  void." 

"From  this  period  until  the  subsequent  meeting 
of  the  General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  no  farther  steps  were  taken  by  the 
Southern  commissioners. 

"  The  General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church  met  in  Pittsburg,  Pennsylvania,  May 
1, 1848,  and  on  the  12th  the  commissioners  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  submitted  to 
that  body  a  communication,  to  which  no  reply  was 
made,  nor  was  it  referred  to  a  committee." 

Dr.  L.  Pierce  knocked  at  the  door  of  this  Confer- 


«  THE   CHURCH   SUITS.  159 

ence  as  a  fraternal  messenger  from  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  South,,  with  what  success  I 
should  be  mortified  to  relate. 

"As  H.  B.  Bascom  did  not  reach  Pittsburg  until 
the  13th  of  May,  Dr.  Pierce  was  in  due  form  sub- 
stituted in  his  place  ad  interim..  Dr.  Latta  being 
prevented  by  extreme  illness  from  attending,  the 
Rev.  C.  B.  Parsons  was  duly  appointed  ad  interimin 
his  place." 

The  Southern  commissioners,  despairing  at  last 
of  a  fraternal  settlement,  drafted  this  resolution : 

"Resolved,  That  it  is  expedient  and  necessary,  in' 
view  of  the  interests  and  rights  in  controversy,  that 
the  necessary  suits  be  instituted,  as  soon  as  practica- 
ble, for  the  recovery  of  the  funds  and  property  fall- 
ing due  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South, 
under  the  contract  of  the  Plan  of  Separation  adopted 
by  the  General  Conference  of  1844." 

The  history  of  the  Church  suits,  is  it  not  recorded 
by  Dr.  Bedford  and  others? 

"  The  first  suit  was  brought  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  against  George  Lane  and  others,  for  a  divis- 
ion of  the  Book  Concern  in  that  city.  D.  Lord,  the 
Hon.  Reverdy  Johnson,  and  Mr.  Johnson,  jr.,  ap- 
peared as  counsel  for  the  plaintiffs,  and  the  Hon. 
Rufus  Choate,  George  Wood,  and  E.  L.  Fancher  for 
the  defendants.  The  case  was  tried  before  the  Hon- 
orable Judges  Nelson  and  Betts.  It  was  decided  in 
favor  of  the  plaintiffs. 

"  The  suit  for  the  division  of  the  Book  Concern 
in  Cincinnati  was  brought  in  the  city  of  Columbus, 
in  the  United  States  Circuit  Court  for  the  District 


160  THE    CHURCH   SUITS.  j 

of  Ohio.  The  Hon.  Mr.  Stanberry  was  employed  by 
the  plaintiffs,  and  Messrs.  Badger  and  Ewing  by  the 
defendants.  The  court  was  presided  over  by  the 
Honorable  Judge  Leavitt,  who  rendered  a  decision  in 
favor  of  the  defendants.  The  Southern  commis- 
sioners appealed  from  the  decision  to  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States.  This  court  was  com- 
posed of  Chief-justice  Taney,  and  Associate-justices 
Wayne,  Catron,  Daniel,  Nelson,  Greer,  Curtis,  and 
Campbell.  The  cause  was  heard  in  Washington 
City,  in  April,  1854,  and  was  decided  in  favor 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  without 
dissent  from  any  of  the  Justices.  The  opinion  of 
the  court  was  delivered  by  Judge  Nelson,  April  25, 
1854."  ("Organization  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South.")  Judge  McLean  did  not  sit  on 
this  case  because  his  sympathies  and  convictions 
were  with  the  South,  while  he  was  a  member,  and 
a  devoted  one,  too,  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church. 

To  say  that  Dr.  Green  was  mainly  instrumental 
in  the  success  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
South,  in  these  suits;  that  he  was  absent  from  home 
three  and  four  months  at  a  time;  that  he  labored 
almost  incessantly  during  the  prosecution,  and  even 
months  before;  that  he  adopted  every  feasible  plan, 
and  availed  himself  of  every  resource,  is  not  saying 
too  much.  In  view  of  the  services  he  performed, 
a  grateful  Church  is  willing  to  render  "honor  to 
whom  honor  is  due;"  and,  we  believe,  as  the  years 
roll  on  this  appreciation  will  increase. 

"The  Methodist  Episcopal   Church,  South,  also 


THE   CHURCH   SUITS.  161 

claimed  an  interest  in  the  Chartered  Fund,  located 
in  Philadelphia,  which  was  paid  over  to  the  agents 
without  recourse  to  the  law.  From  these  several 
sources  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  re- 
ceived over  three  hundred  thousand  dollars."  ("Or- 
ganization of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
South.")  About  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  of 
this  was  canceled  by  debts  owed  to  the  Northern 
House. 

I  must  make  mention  of  Colonel  Alexander  Cum- 
mings,  editor  of  the  Philadelphia  Bulletin,  and  a 
warm  personal  friend  of  my  father.  Although  a 
member  of  the  Methodist  Church  (North),  Colonel 
Cummings,  without  compensation,  rendered  valua- 
ble service  to  the  (Southern)  Church  in  obtaining 
its  part  of  the  Chartered  Fund,  for  which  the  friends 
of  Southern  Methodism  will  hold  him  in  grateful 
remembrance.  The  house  and  board  of  this  great- 
hearted man  were  open  and  free  to  my  father  and 
his  traveling  companions  during  their  stay  in  Phil- 
adelphia. Colonel  Cummings,  with  his  family,  vis- 
ited Columbus,  Georgia,  during  the  session  there  of 
the  General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  in  1854,  where  many  a  warm  grip 
testified  the  gratitude  of  those  whom  he  had  favored. 
The  Rev.  Elisha  Carr,  who  was  present  in  Colum- 
bus at  this  time,  made  the  acquaintance  of  Colonel 
Cummings  and  his  family,  and,  hearing  of  their  lib- 
erality, was  so  inspired  with  love  and  admiration 
for  them  that  he  said,  "  On  my  way  to  heaven  I  am 
going  to  stop  by  Philadelphia  and  see  them,"  which 
he  did. 


162  THE   C1IUHCH    SUITS. 

Bishop  McTyeire,  with  reference  to  Dr.  Green's 
services  as  a  commissioner  in  conducting  the  Church 
suits,  snyn:  "As  subsidizing  excellences  and  accesso- 
ries to  his  characteristic  quality,  it  may  be  men- 
tioned that  he  was  a  man  of  aft'airs.  The  volume 
of  his  brain  and  his  commanding  person  made  it 
so  that  in  whatsoever  direction  he  turned  himself  he 
had  force. 

"When  reluctantly  the  Church  South  brought 
her  claim  against  the  Church  North,  for  an  equita- 
ble adjustment  of  common  property,  after  the  Sep- 
aration of  1844,  Dr.  Green,  with  two  others,  was 
charged  with  the  conduct  of  the  business  before  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States;  and  in  all  its 
stages  more  than  property  was  at  stake.  His  col- 
leagues on  the  commission  died,  and  though  their 
places  were  filled,  it  is  beyond  question  that  he  did 
a  service  for  the  Church  and  country  in  that  matter 
that  has  never  been  appreciated,  because  never  un- 
derstood. His  mind  took  in  all  the  subject,  and  di- 
rected and  inspired  the  great  lawyers  who  pleaded 
the  cause." 

Considering  Dr.  Green  as  "  a  man  of  aft'airs,"  Dr. 
Summers  says:  "Thousands  will  echo  the  language 
of  David,  and  with  tenfold  more  pertinency  than 
he  said  it  in  regard  to  Abner:  <KNOW  YE  NOT  THAT 

THERE   IS  A  PRINCE  AND  A  GREAT  MAN  FALLEN  THIS  DAY  IN 

ISRAEL?  '*  When  he  fell  it  was  as  when  '  a  standard- 
bearer  fainteth.'  Who  are  there  among  us  'who 
can  bend  his  bow?'  Where  is  the  Nestor  that  shall 

*  Bishop  McTyeire's  text  on  the  occasion  of  Dr.  Green's 
funeral. 


THE   CHURCH   SUITS.  163 

stand  up  like  him,  a  head  and  shoulders  higher  than 
others  in  our  councils?  He  was  eminently  the 
statesman  of  the  Church.  He  had  a  massive  brain, 
level  head,  well-balanced  faculties,  and  many-sided 
powers.  He  was  calm,  deliberate,  cautious;  yet  de- 
cided, outspoken,  and  firm.  His  long  and  intimate 
association  with  Bishop  McKendree,  having  been 
for  some  time  his  traveling  companion,  and  subse- 
quently with  Bishop  Soule,  had  a  happy  influence  on 
Dr.  Green.  He  had  a  high  appreciation  of  those 
princes  in  Israel,  imbibed  their  views,  and  formed 
his  character  largely  upon  their  model.  In  many 
respects  he  was  the  superior  of  both.  In  the  mem- 
orable session  of  the  General  Conference  of  1844,  in 
New  York,  he  was  looked  up  to  as  a  wise  counselor; 
leading  Northern  ministers  sought  his  advice,  and 
begged  him  to  overcome  his  reluctance  to  the  Plan 
of  Separation  and  sanction  that  measure,  so  essen- 
tial to  the  welfare,  not  to  say  the  existence,  of  the 
Church,  knowing  the  influence  of  his  character  and 
opinions  North  and  South. 

"As  a  commissioner  on  the  part  of  the  Church 
South  to  settle  the  property  question,  he  evinced 
a  wise  diplomacy  and  conciliatory  spirit  which 
greatly  enhanced  his  reputation  in  both  Connections. 
During  the  entire  vexatious  controversy  no  man  was 
more  acceptable  in  the  Methodist  pulpits  of  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  and  other  Northern  cities,  than 
Dr.  Green." 

The  reference  of  Dr.  Summers  to  Bishop  Soule 
reminds  me,  there  existed  between  the  Bishop  and 
my  father  the  closest  intimacy,  which  antedated 


164  THE   CHURCH   SUITS. 

1844.  They  were  thrown  together  much  during 
the  pendency  of  the  Church  suit  in  New  York. 
There  was  mutual  admiration  and  a  oneness  of  opin- 
ion and  feeling  between  them.  I  extract  from  a 
letter  of  the  Rev.  William  E.  Doty,  which  is  to  the 
point:  "I  write  to  give  you  the  estimate  in  which 
Dr.  Green  was  held  by  Bishop  Soule  in  1845.  I 
carried  the  Bishop  and  his  wife  from  my  house  to 
Marshall,  the  seat  of  the  Texas  Conference.  As 
the  General  Conference  was  to  convene  in  Peters- 
burg the  following  year,  I  asked  him  who  would 
probably  be  made  Bishop.  He  promptly  answered, 
'Dr.  Green.'" 

I  remember  going  into  my  father's  room  at  night, 
at  an  Annual  Conference  in  Clarksville.  His  room- 
mate, Bishop  Soule,  had  retired.  The  cabinet 
meeting  was  not  over,  and  the  Bishop  was  alone,  for 
he  was  not  presiding  at  that  Conference.  Rising 
up  in  the  bed,  he  pointed  to  a  box  near  by,  and 
asked  me  to  open  it  and  help  myself  to  a  bunch  of 
grapes,  but  not  disturb  the  bunch  lying  on  the  table. 
The  next  day  I  inquired  about  that  bunch  on  the 
table,  and  was  informed  that  a  friend  had  presented 
the  Bishop  a  box  of  grapes,  and  that  it  was  his 
habit  to  eat  a  bunch  in  the  morning  and  at  night, 
and  that  he  never  failed  to  leave  a  bunch  for  Dr. 
Green  at  night. 


34. 

SLAVERY  AND  DR.  GREEN. 

|E  presume  that  slavery  had  somewhat  to 
do  with  the  division  of  the  Church.  The 
same  leaven  ultimated  in  the  late  war.  As 
some  of  the  wise  men  put  it,  "  It  was  the 
occasion,  but  not  the  cause,  of  the  separation."  There 
is  certainly  some  logical  acumen  in  this,  which  we 
are  not  inclined  to  either  probe  or  analyze.  To  our 
blunt  mind  the  cause  was  about  equal  to  the  occasion, 
and  the  occasion  was  a  very  good  excuse  for  the 
cause.  Verily,  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
South,  had  the  right,  under  its  biblical  charter,  to 
disclaim  any  political  character.  If  it  was  proslavery 
or  antislavery,  it  was  a  politico-religious  Church.  (I 
speak  of  the  Church  prospectively,  as  nominally  it 
had  no  existence  before  the  Convention  in  Louis- 
ville.) While  a  Church  may  not  be  proslavery  or 
antislavery,  its  ministers  may.  Men,  not  Churches, 
are  politicians.  Every  man  in  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  1844  was  either  proslavery  or  antislavery, 
and  their  votes  and  speeches  were  influenced  accord- 
ingly. In  many  instances  the  pro  and  the  anti  were 
the  accidents  of  education  and  location.  Antislav- 
ery men  from  the  North,  after  a  residence  of  a  few 

(105) 


166  SLAVERY    AXD    DR.    OREKX. 

yours  in  the  South,  became  proslavery,  and  the  same 
might  be  said  >•/,-,  /Y/-.SVI  of  the  effects  of  a  Northern 
residence  upon  proslavery  men.  As  it  is  not  my 
purpose  to  accuse  or  excuse,  or  to  revive  an  old  story, 
I  will  take  a  hurried  glimpse  of  the  Southern  atti- 
tude on  the  slavery  question  in  1844. 

African  slavery  was  an  institution  in  the  Southern 
States  in  1844.  The  members  of  the  Southern  wing 
of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  were,  many  of 
them,  slave-holders;  they  had  no  conscientious  scru- 
ples on  the  subject;  they  held  that  the  ownership  in 
slaves  was  a  right,  jure  ditino.  No  Annual  or  Gen- 
eral Conference  action  could  have  disturbed  the  insti- 
tution of  slavery  in  the  South  in  the  slightest  degree. 
It  was  a  fixity  in  law  and  in  conviction.  Any  Church 
legislation  against  it  would  have  been  like  Don  Quix- 
ote's battle  with  the  windmills — somebody  would 
have  been  hurt,  but  not  the  windmills.  If  the  South- 
ern delegation  in  the  General  Conference  of  1844 
had  favored  by  their  votes  the  silencing  or  suspen- 
sion of  Harding  and  Andrew,  either  the  delegation 
would  have  been  cut  off  or  the  Southern  wing  of  the 
Church  destroyed  forever.  Years  of  labor  and  of 
prayer  established  Methodism  in  the  South,  and 
there  was  too  much  comeliness  and  grace  to  be  sacri- 
ficed for  naught. 

I  have  had  a  grudge  against  slavery  for  the  trouble 
it  gave  the  Church,  and  because  of  the  noble  and 
honest  blood  that  was  shed  in  its  defense.  When 
the  dark  shadow  passed  out  and  on,  I  was  tempted 
to  slam  the  door  on  its  back.  I  speak  only  for  my- 
self. 


SLAVERY   AND   DR.    GREEN.  167 

Dr.  Green  was  a  proslavery  man,  but  was  never  a 
radical  in  his  love  for,  or  in  his  defense  of,  the  in- 
stitution. He  was  associated  with,  and  knew  inti- 
mately, many  of  the  old  antislavery  preachers,  and 
was  just  as  intimate  with  a  multitude  of  the  modern 
proslavery  preachers.  He  imhibed  some  of  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  former,  and  embraced  the  convictions 
of  the  latter.  He  was  not  proslavery  just  in  order 
to  be  "subject  to  the  powers  that  be;"  there  was 
principle  that  lay  far  beneath  this.  He  even  went 
so  far  in  his  newspaper  articles  as  to  administer  a 
little  ridicule  for  the  benefit  of  his  antislavery 
friends.  He  favored  the  institution  when  it  was 
properly  controlled  and  a  blessing  to  the  slave.  He 
believed  the  negro  incompetent  and  unfitted  for 
self-government,  and  hence  a  wise,  good  master  was 
a  necessity.  Mr.  Webster's  definition  of  slavery — 
"a  human  being  held  as  goods  and  chattels"  by 
another — he  never  indorsed,  neither  did  any  other 
Southern  Christian.  The  grosser  form  of  slavery 
was  revolting  to  him.  On  one  occasion  he  found 
his  sympathies  so  wrought  upon  by  the  cruelty  of  a 
master  to  an  old  slave  that  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and 
gathered  hold  of  a  chair  to  strike  down  the  tor- 
mentor, but  was  restrained  by  the  reflection  that  he 
was  his  guest. 

Dr.  Green  never  inflicted  corporal  punishment 
upon  a  slave,  not  because  he  did  not  think  physical 
punishment  sometimes  necessary  to  the  welfare  and 
government  of  the  slave,  but  for  the  same  reason 
that  he  never  corporally  punished  his  children. 
He  never  used  the  severer  when  the  milder  means 


168  SLAVERY    AND    DR.    GREEN'. 

availed.  He  never  purchased  but  two  slaves,  and 
these  he  bought  under  his  own  protest,  at  the  urgent 
solicitation  of  the  negroes  themselves.  His  reason 
for  this  was  not  any  scruple  about  the  evil  of  own- 
ership, but  because  he  had  the  good  sense  to  know 
that  slave  property  was  not  the  most  remunerative. 
As  far  as  any  principle  was  involved,  to  own  one 
slave  was  the  same  as  to  own  a  hundred. 

A  family  of  negroes  was  presented  to  him,  which 
he  sent,  at  his  own  expense,  into  a  free  State;  they 
continued  to  write  to  him  for  years,  begging  to  be 
received  back  into  their  former  condition. 

My  mother  and  grandmother  owned  three  negro 
families,  not  one  of  whom  ever  called  my  father 
"master" — why  I  know  not. 

The  only  practical  use  that  Dr.  Green  had  for  a 
negro  was  to  listen,  with  the  greatest  interest,  to  his 
ridiculous  gabble;  for  many  of  his  side-splitting  an- 
ecdotes were  negro  speeches  and  religious  experi- 
ences abounding  in  big  words. 

In  concluding  this  paper,  I  must  whisper  to  my 
friends  on  both  sides,  For  the  sake  of  truth  and 
charity,  do  not  extract,  but  take  with  you  the  whole 
of  this  chapter. 


35. 

CAMP-MEETING  INCIDENTS. 

j|E  have  a  communication  from  the  Rev. 
William  Doss,  a  member  of  the  Tennes- 
see Conference,  and  the  successor  of  my 
father   on  the   Columbia  District.     Mr. 
Doss  belongs  to  the  old  guard.     He  writes: 

"Dr.  Green  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  faith, 
which  the  following  incident  will  illustrate: 

"At  the  first  camp -meeting  held  at  Hurricane 
Switch — a  camp-meeting  which  owes  its  existence 
to  Dr.  Green  more  than  to  any  one  else  —  I  was 
called  upon  to  preach  the  opening  sermon,  which  I 
did,  on  the  subject  of  Faith.  As  an  illustration  I 
stated  the  incident  referred  to.  Some  time  after 
the  service  Dr.  Green  arrived,  and  I  spent  the  night 
with  him.  In  conversation  I  mentioned  the  inci- 
dent, and  related  it  as  I  had  used  it  in  the  sermon, 
and  asked  him  if  I  had  stated  it  correctly.  He 
replied,  'Yes,  only  you  did  not  make  it  strong 
enough,'  and  then  proceeded  to  state  the  case,  as 
near  as  I  can  recollect,  in  the  following  language: 

"'I  once  held  a  camp-meeting  in  a  very  wealthy, 
aristocratic  community.     I  made  my  best  efforts, 
but  they  seemed  to  make  little  or  no  impression 
8  (169) 


170  CAMI'-.MKKTINC    INVIhKMS. 

upon  the  people.  After  I  had  done  all  I  eould  do, 
as  I  thought,  I  left  the  stand  and  walked  toward 
the  preachers'  tent,  under  the  influence  of  this  kind 
of  feeling:  You  have  just  as  much  right  to  go  to 
hell  as  any  people  in  the  world;  so  just  go!  But 
before  I  reached  the  tent  a  strange  impression,  or 
impulse,  came  upon  me,  which  brought  me  suddenly 
to  a  stand-still,  while  the  thought  rushed  into  my 
mind,  You  have  been  depending  too  much  on  the 
strength  of  your  own  efforts;  you  have  not  trusted 
sufficiently  in  God!  I  turned  around  and  walked 
back  to  the  stand,  took  my  position  in  the  altar, 
and  commenced  talking  in  a  conversational  tone  of 
voice,  and  stood  there  talking  on,  with  scarcely  any 
physical  effort,  until  I  talked  sixty-two  sinners  into 
the  altar.' " 

We  have  also  an  interesting  letter  from  Dr.  J.  G. 
Wilson,  which  may  be  inserted  in  this  connection. 
Dr.  Wilson  is  a  native  of  Nashville;  was  formerly  a 
member  of  the  Tennessee,  but  now  of  the  St.  Louis, 
Conference.  He  says: 

"From  the  hands  of  Dr.  Green  I  received  my 
license  to  preach,  at  Walton's  Camp-ground,  in  the 
summer  of  1849.  I  was  brought  up  in  the  Cumber- 
land Presbyterian  Church ;  was  converted  at  Pope's 
Camp-ground,  and  joined  the  Cumberland  Presbyte- 
rian Church  in  Nashville.  Before  receiving  license 
to  preach,  and  while  looking  into  matters  with  that 
view,  I  became  dissatisfied  with  Cumberland  Pres- 
byterian doctrines  on  certain  points,  and  remember 
a  conversation  with  Dr.  Green  on  that  subject,  at 
the  close  of  which  he  said.  'Well,  John,  if  you  fall 


CAMP-MEETING    INCIDENTS.  171 

through  the  Cumberland  Presbyterian  Church,  the 
Methodist  is  next  to  it,  and  I  reckon  it  will  catch 
you.'  I  am  proud  to  say  that  this  is  as  near  to  pros- 
elyting as  any  Methodist  came  in  my  case. 

"My  first  sermon  was  preached  under  Dr.  Green's 
direction.  I  shall  never  forget.  We  had  dined  at 
the  same  tent,  and  after  dinner  we  sat  talking  to- 
gether for  some  time  in  the  rear  of  the  tent.  Start- 
ing afterward  to  walk  together  toward  the  church, 
•in  which  several  of  the  preachers  lodged,  he  said, 
'Well,  Brother  John,  I  reckon  you  must  preach  for 
us  at  the  next  hour.'  'You  are  joking,  Doctor,' 
said  I;  'I  am  not  licensed  to  preach  yet.'  (This 
was  on  Saturday ;  my  application  for  license  was  to 
come  before  the  Quarterly-meeting  Conference  on 
Monday.)  '  We  '11  see,'  he  replied,  in  his  own  pe- 
culiar way.  Presently,  at  the  church,  one  of  the 
preachers  asked,  '  Doctor,  who  preaches  the  next 
hour?'  'We  '11  have  to  try  Brother  John,'  was  his 
reply.  '  The  Doctor  wants  to  see  if  you  will  do  to 
license  to  preach,'  said  one  of  the  preachers.  'No, 
no,'  said  the  Doctor;  'we'll  not  judge  him  by  this 
effort.  If  he  preaches  a  poor  sermon,  we'll  think 
he  was  scared,  and  will  do  better  next  time;  and  if 
he  preaches  a  good  sermon,  we  will  think  he  got  it 
out  of  some  one's  book.'  Just  then  the  horn 
sounded,  and  I  had  to  get  to  the  stand,  find  my 
text,  and  blaze  away,  off-hand. 

"One  gift  Dr.  Green  possessed  in  greater  measure 
than  any  preacher  I  ever  knew — I  mean  that  of 
reaching  and  moving  a  man  by  a  remark  thrown  in 
at  an  odd  moment  and  in  an  unexpected  manner. 


172  CAMP-MEETING   INCIDENTS. 

Two  instances  which  occurred  at  the  above  meeting 
may  serve  to  illustrate  this. 

"While  we  were  sitting  in  the  rear  of  the  tent, 
talking,  as  above-said,  there  was  seated  not  far  from 
us  one  of  those  men,  often  seen,  who  are  good  lobby- 
members  of  the  Church — that  is  to  say,  they  are 
friends  to  religion  in  a  patronizing  sort  of  way, 
glad  to  see  it  moving  on,  ready  to  help  a  meeting 
in  any  way,  but  who  seem  to  feel  that  they  them- 
selves have  no  personal  interest  in  it.  Several  mem-' 
bers  of  the  Church  had  for  some  time  been  talking 
with  this  man  about  religion,  and  he  was  parrying 
what  they  had  to  say,  when  presently,  to  the  sur- 
prise of  all,  Dr.  Green  broke  in,  as  if  angry:  'Go 
away,  and  let  that  man  alone!  there  have  been 
counsel  and  prayers  enough  wasted  on  him  to  have 
converted  twenty  better  men.  It  is  his  privilege  to 
go  to  the  devil  if  he  is  determined  to  do  it.'  The 
idea  that  Dr.  Green  seemed  disposed  to  give  him  up 
to  be  damned,  and  that  he  should  be  vexed  with 
those  who  tried  to  prevent  it,  appeared  to  strike  the 
man  as  with  a  galvanic  shock.  '  0  no,  Doctor! '  said 
he,  with  evident  emotion;  'it  would  not  do  to  give 
me  up  in  that  way.'  The  next  time  mourners  were 
called  he  was  one  of  the  first  to  come  forward. 

"At  another  time  Dr.  Green,  looking  earnestly 
and  fixedly  into  the  face  of  another  man  of  the 
same  sort,  without  a  word  at  first,  at  last  said, 
gravely,  'W.,  I  am  concerned  for  you.  You  have 
passed  through  meeting  after  meeting  at  this  place, 
and  I  have  been  watching  you  during  the  meetings. 
You  stand  up  by  the  altar  when  the  fire  is  burning 


CAMP-MEETING   INCIDENTS.  173 

hottest,  and  the  sparks  fall  all  over  you,  and' — suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  words — 'you  have  only  to 
shake  yourself,  and  they  all  fall  off.  I  am  afraid 
you  are  gone.'  The  words  and  manner  evidently 
made  a  deep  impression,  and  at  the  next  call  for 
penitents  this  man  was  one  of  them." 


36. 
DR.  GREEN  AND  CHILDREN. 

jjR.  GREEN  was  very  fond  of  children — not 
this  one  or  the  other,  or  some  particular 
child,  but  all  children — and  the  children 
(all  children  are  observing)  knew  it,  and 
were  fond  of  him.  He  came  to  the  Saviour  when  a 
child  and  "as  a  child,"  and  he  retained  through 
youth  and  manhood  the  simplicity  of  a  child.  He 
appreciated  the  unsuspicious,  unenvious  character 
of  a  child.  Children  are  not  misers,  nor  backbiters, 
nor  skeptics,  nor  infidels;  therefore,  he  loved  them 
— loved  to  have  them  near  him,  to  sit  on  his  knee, 
to  comb  his  hair,  to  hear  them  talk.  He  was  inter- 
ested in  their  incongruous  stories;  he  remembered 
and  repeated  what  they  said,  and  there  seemed  to 
be  a  kind  of  freemasonry  between  them ;  for  he  knew 
them,  and  they  knew  him,  at  once.  Just  anybody's 
child  looked  up  into  Dr.  Green's  face,  was  inspired 
with  confidence,  and  never  forgot  him.  He  was 
proud  of  the  love  of  a  child.  He  had  scores  of 
juvenile  correspondents;  many  of  them  wrote  to 
him  their  "maiden"  letters,  which  were  never  "laid 
upon  the  table,"  but  answered  at  once.  He  never  let 
slip  an  opportunity  to  defend  the  irrepressible  boy. 
(174) 


DR.    GREEN    AND   CHILDREN.  175 

Writing  to  the  Rev.  S.  W.  Moore,  during  the  ses- 
sion of  the  General  Conference  at  New  Orleans,  he 
says,  "Do  not  let  the  children  forget  me." 

One  of  his  child-friends  (Miss  Annie  Ransom), 
now  grown  up  to  womanhood,  writes:  "I  have  been 
intimately  associated  with  Uncle  Green  since  quite 
a  child,  and  in  my  earliest  childhood  sought  every 
opportunity  to  be  with  him,  and  never  ceased  to  be 
interested  in  all  he  would  sa,y.  He  was  truly  the 
children's  friend.  I  never  knew  a  child  who  did  not 
love  him.  Knowing  that  I  was  an  orphan,  he  coun- 
seled me  as  a  father  would  a  child,  and,  I  suppose 
for  this  reason,  manifested  a  special  interest  in  my 
behalf.  When  the  cold  hand  of  death  was  laid  upon 
him  I  felt  that  God  had  taken  one  of  my  best  and 
truest  friends." 

Bishop  Paine  says:  "  He  was  the  children's  prince 
of  talkers.  He  knew  just  how  to  address  them, 
and  amuse  as  well  as  instruct  them.  Like  his  great 
Master,  he  loved  them,  and  they  sought  his  bless- 
ing." 

Bishop  McTyeire  says:  "  His  ministry  to  children 
was  pleasing,  effective,  and  formed  a  marked  feature 
of  his  life.  He  held  that  childhood  was  amenable 
to  the  regeneration  of  the  Spirit,  but  not  to  all  the 
signs  and  conscious  experiences  that  mark  the  con- 
version of  adults." 

My  father's  happiest  speeches  to  children  were 
impromptu,  and  drawn  from  his  own  experience, 
lie  knew  his  little  auditors  so  well  that  it  was  not 
necessary  for  him  to  cast  about  but  a  few  momentfl 
to  gather  together  what  would  instruct  and  amuse. 


176  DR.    GREEN   AND   CHILDREN. 

Bishop  McTyeire,  referring  to  this  happy  mental 
ivadim-ss,  says: 

"Occasionally  Dr.  Green  had  the  intuitions  of 
genius,  and  a  whole  line  of  argument  flashed  into 
his  mind  in  a  moment.  Once,  in  a  union  prayer- 
meeting  in  Alabama,  in  1864,  he  made  a  talk  so 
unique,  and  original,  and  appropriate,  I  was  led  to 
inquire  about  the  genesis  of  it;  for  we  had  gone  to 
the  house  together,  and  his  mind  was  not  running 
in  that  direction.  '  That  all  came  to  me,'  he  replied, 
'between  the  unexpected  call  of  the  prayer-meeting 
leader  and  rising  to  my  feet.' 

"More  remarkable  was  his  Sunday-school  speech 
— the  last  he  ever  made.  All  who  have  heard  it  will 
agree  that  it  was  the  best  of  its  kind — unequaled 
for  raciness,  humor,  pious  and  practical  directions. 
Children  listened  with  unflagging  interest  for  an 
hour  and  a  quarter,  and  children  of  a  larger  growth 
were  sorry  when  he  ended.  The  case,  as  I  had  it 
from  himself,  was  this:  He  was  in  Baltimore,  at- 
tending the  Foreign  Missionary  Board,  at  the  same 
time  with  the  Annual  Conference.  A  mass-meeting 
of  the  Sunday-schools  was  arranged  for.  Delayed 
on  the  way,  he  got  to  the  hall  late.  An  immense 
audience  had  assembled,  and  the  children  were  in 
uncommon  array.  Being  second  in  the  programme, 
he  had  no  speech  made  up.  The  first  speaker  was 
introduced,  and  declined.  The  burden  fell  on  A.  L. 
P.  Green;  the  pressure  was  sudden  and  heavy.  He 
began  by  apologetic  remarks.  An  old  gentleman, 
more  moved  than  the  speaker  intended,  rose  up  and 
said,  'Go  on,  sir;  we'll  hear  you  with  pleasure.' 


DR.    GREEN   AND    CHILDREN.  177 

While  these  few  words  of  kind  interruption  were 
being  spoken,  the  whole  plan  and  outline  of  that 
Sunday-school  address  was  conceived,  and  the  deliv- 
ery proceeded.  That  address  was  repeated  at  Mem- 
phis, at  St.  Louis,  and  at  several  places  in  Middle 
Tennessee,  to  large  and  delighted  audiences.  At 
the  late  General  Conference,  in  Louisville,  Dr.  Green 
repeated  it  in  Library  Hall,  and  delegates  who  had 
heard  it  three  or  four  times  before  went  and  heard  it 
again  with  interest." 

Dr.  Summers  never  rises  so  high  in  sublime  ethics, 
nor  descends  so  deep  into  profound  theology,  that  his 
pencil  may  not  be  staid  by  the  voice  and  presence  of 
a  child.  He  says:  "Dr.  Green  took  a  special  inter- 
est in  the  Sunday-school  cause.  He  rarely  failed  to 
attend  the  Sunday-school  when  he  had  the  opportu- 
nity to  do  so.  He  was  at  the  McKendree  Sunday- 
school  the  last  Sunday  he  was  at  church.  He  loved 
to  talk  to  children,  to  sing  with  them,  to  pray  with 
them.  He  believed  in  the  religion  of  childhood. 
He  did  not  trouble  himself  much  about  the  meta- 
physico-theological  questions  which  beset  the  sub- 
ject. He  believed  that  the  Holy  Spirit  moves  upon 
the  heart  of  tender  infancy,  and  he  was  disposed  to 
follow  up  the  motions  of  the  Spirit  on  the  young, 
and  he  claimed  them  all  for  Christ  and  the  Church. 
And  he  was  right.  0  how  the  children  loved  Dr. 
Green!  He  was  a  perfect  child  among  them;  and 
they  were  always  ready  'to  pluck  his  gown,  to  share 
the  good  man's  smile.' " 

I  might  refer  to  the  cases  of  a  number  of  persons 
who,  when  grown  to  maturity,  came  to  my  father 
8* 


178  DR.    GREEN   AND   CHILDREN. 

and  reminded  him  of  some  little  notice  that  he  took 
of  them  when  they  were  children,  and  which  were 
the  beginnings  of  their  religious  lives. 

The  days  will  come,  and  the  days  will  go, 

And  life  hath  many  a  crown, 
But  none  that  will  press  upon  manhood's  brow 
As  light  as  the  roses  resting  now 

On  the  children's  foreheads  brown. 


37. 


PHILANTHROPY  AND  OTHER  MATTERS. 


OMETIMES  we  approach  a  particular  with 
more  accuracy  and  rapidity  by  advancing 
through  a  general.  When  we  affirm  that 
Dr.  Green  was  the  preacher's  friend,  we 
mean  something  more  than  mere  personal  regard  or 
attachment.  He  loved  the  Church;  the  Church 
was  as  dear  to  him  as  "the  apple  of  his  eye."  He 
loved  the  name,  the  government,  and  all  the  inter- 
ests of  the  Church;  and  out  of  this  general  love 
was  evolved  much  of  his  love  for  the  preacher.  He 
dealt  tenderly  and  lovingly  with  the  pastor,  because 
the  destiny  of  the  pastor  is  intimately  blended  with 
his  flock.  In  this  connection,  Dr.  J.  "W.  Hanner 
says :  "  Dr.  Green's  views  of  Church-discipline  were 
liberal,  manly,  and  lenient.  He  never  went  about 
hunting  up  rumors  or  charges  to  get  a  member  out 
of  the  Church;  nor  did  he  expel  one  for  an  impro- 
priety or  a  fault.  He  did  not  belong  to  that  class 
of  immaculate  churchmen  who  hold  that  the  Divine 
Master  organized  the  different  Churches,  formulated 
their  different  creeds,  rules,  and  ceremonies,  as  so 
many  squads  of  saints,  utterly  intolerant  of  associ- 
ation with  any  sort  of  sinners.  He  believed  the 

(179) 


180  PHILANTHROPY   AND   OTHER   MATTERS. 

Church  to  be  a  hospital  for  the  sick,  ortruni/ed  for 
the  purpose  Of  caring  for  the  sick,  and  helping  them 
to  'flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.'  Like  the  Mn-hT, 
Dr.  Green  preferred  to  'let  the  wheat  and  the  tares 
grow  together  until  the  harvest,'  rather  than  to  root 
up  both.  If  a  member  'be  overtaken  in  a  fault,' 
let  those  '  who  are  spiritual  restore  such  an  one  in 
the  spirit  of  meekness,'  not  try  to  destroy  him  by 
cutting  him  off  in  the  spirit  of  Churchism, 

"  It  was  when  the  elder  members  of  the  Confer- 
ence wore  the  shad-belly,  and  the  younger,  long- 
skirted  frock-coats.  Examining  character,  the  Bishop 
called  out:  '  A.  L.  P.  Green;  is  there  any  thing  against 
him? '  A  brother  rose  up  slowly,  lifted  his  eyes  to  the 
ceiling,  locked  his  hands,  with  proper  dignity,  hori- 
zontal to  the  lower  button-hole  of  his  keel-bottom,  in 
which  was  much  of  his  piety,  and  said:  'We  must 
not  be  conformed  to  this  vain  world;  we  must  keep 
the  ministry  pure;  I  object  to  the  cut  of  his  coat; 
he  knows  that  I  love  him,  but  we  must  take  care 
of  the  Church.'  It  was  a  dress-coat,  sometimes 
called,  by  the  wicked,  'swallow-tail,'  or  'claw-hammer.' 
The  accused  replied  by  stating  that  he  worshiped  one 
Sunday  with  the  Episcopalians,  who  have  a  great 
deal  of  kneeling  and  getting  up.  That  day  he  wore 
a  frock-coat;  somebody  went  down  with  his  knee 
on  the  skirt  of  it,  and  being  slow  to  rise,  there  was 
a  hitch,  which  tore  off  the  skirt.  This  suggested 
the  idea  of  trying  a  swallow-tail,  without  any  thought 
of  wounding  a  brother's  conscience.  His  character 
then  passed. 

"Ah,  that  was  an  age  of  pious  groans  and  religious 


PHILANTHROPY   AND    OTHER   MATTERS.  181 

clothes!  "Would  it  not  have  done  your  heart  good 
to  see  a  preacher  ascend  the  sacred  desk  with  a 
yellow  watch-chain  and  sleeve-buttons,  to  read  a 
scientific  sermon? 

"  He  did  not  wear  a  cane.  My  antipathy  to  canes 
is  unaccountable.  One  likes  to  see  an  old  man  with 
a  staff,  a  young  man  also  who  is  crippled  or  mighty 
weak  in  body  or  mind.  But  a  healthy  man  under 
sixty-five  carrying  a  cane!  well,  whether  it  is  a  fop- 
pish mockery  of  manhood,  or  something  else,  one 
doesn't  know.  Give  me  to  choose  a  manly  friend 
from  a  dozen  men  never  seen  before;  let  six  have 
canes  and  six  have  none;  my  choice  would  be  a 
man  without  a  cane." 

I  am  not  inclined  to  spring  a  discussion  with  the 
Doctor  on  the  subject  of  canes;  indeed,  I  have  a 
sort  of  innate  prejudice  against  them  myself;  but, 
with  all  due  respect  to  his  opinion,  circumstances 
must  alter  cases,  even  as  regards  young  men.  My 
father  used  a  staff  sometimes  when  strolling  around 
his  farm,  but  never  anywhere  else.  I  have  a  sturdy 
hickory  standing  in  the  corner  which  I  use  occa- 
sionally. There  are  a  number  of  families,  members 
of  my  charge  and  congregation,  whom  I  visit  regu- 
larly at  their  homes.  Now,  be  it  known,  the  law 
does  not  allow  me  to  carry  fire-arms  or  a  loaded  stick; 
the  law  does  not  require  a  man  to  put  a  sign  over 
his  gate,  "There  are  wild  beasts  here!"  Further- 
more, if  I  attempt  to  visit  these  families  without 
a  heavy  stick,  my  jugular  will  be  in  danger.  No 
Christian  man  keeps  a  tiger  turned  loose  in  his 
yard — that  would  not  be  lawful — but  he  is  permitted 


182  PHILANTHROPY    AND    OTHER    MATTERS. 

to  keep  a  wild  beast,  called  a  Imll-tfoy,  that  is  even 
more  ferocious  than  a  tiger.  I  have  fought  with 
one  of  these  beasts  three  times  in  the  last  two  years; 
my  good  stick  has  at  last  subdued  him.  So  there 
it  is!  The  perils  of  pastoral  visiting  are  such  that 
a  staff  must  be  used  sometimes.  Young  and  timid 
as  I  am,  I  have  fought  with  more  beasts  than  Paul 
did  at  Ephesus.  "We  propose  a  compromise  with 
the  Doctor.  Those  switches  that  are  called  canes 
we  will  unitedly  oppose;  but  a  good,  healthy  hick- 
ory, incased  in  its  native  bark,  that  laughs  wrhen  a 
beast  cometh,  we  will  recognize  its  presence  and 
utility.  I  love  a  good  dog-stick — smooth  it  down 
with  my  hand,  chuckle  to  myself,  How  a  grinning 
bull-dog  would  be  embarrassed  in  its  presence!  I 
am  obliged  to  the  Doctor  for  opening  with  his  cane 
my  throttle-valve  against  the  dog.  As  a  contributor 
I  should  have  treated  him  with  more  deference,  but 
I  could  not  repress  my  inclination  to  condemn  the 
presence  of  wild  beasts  in  the  yards  of  Christian 
gentlemen.  Dr.  Kelley  says,  "  I  am  more  afraid  of 
a  dog  than  of  the  devil."  My  comment  on  this  is 
that  I  had  rather  fight  the  devil  than  a  dog. 

In  the  matter  of  dress  I  will  add  that  my  father, 
when  I  was  a  child,  wore  the  clerical  white  neck- 
tie, but  for  thirty  years  before  his  death  he  donned 
only  the  black.  I  can  divine  his  reason  for  the 
change:  he  wanted  to  approach  socially  near  to  a 
class  of  men  from  whom  clerical  uniform  would  cut 
him  off  to  some  extent.  I  express  my  own  taste 
and  feelings  when  I  say  that  my  aversion  to  a  white 
cravat  on  a  minister  is  about  as  strong  as  Dr.  Han- 


PHILANTHROPY   AND    OTHER   MATTERS.  183 

uer's  antipathy  to  a  cane.  For  fear  of  offending 
some  parties,  whom  I  love  and  respect,  I  will  not 
ventilate  my  reasons.  Passing  the  laymen  by,  and 
the  clergy  of  other  Churches,  and  the  old  Methodist 
preachers,  I  would  not  recommend  the  colorless  tie 
to  a  young  circuit-rider,  for  the  reason  that  they  are 
so  very  unhandy,  and  then  they  give  a  young  min- 
ister an  innocent,  soft  appearance.  I  think  it  better 
to  have  more  of  the  man  and  less  of  the  preacher 
outside.  [The  editor  will  not  be  held  responsible  for 
these  observations.] 

Dr.  Hanner  continues:  "Take  him  altogether,  he 
mixed  in  himself  the  strong  elements  of  manhood 
with  the  gentle  sweetness  of  womanhood.  Great 
and  good!  I  never  tried  to  make  him,  my  friend; 
did  not  follow  him  nor  fawn  upon  him;  never  did 
any  thing  for  him  worth  mentioning,  nor  did  he 
much  for  me,  yet  he  was  my  friend;  I  loved  him, 
and  love  his  memory  still.  Nothing  but  his  memory 
can  ever  fill  for  me  the  void  which  his  death  has 
made  in  the  Conference,  the  Church,  and  the  social 
circle." 

We  have  a  very  pleasant  communication  from  the 
Rev.  Felix  II.  Hill,  formerly  of  the  Tennessee,  but 
now  of  the  Alabama,  Conference.  Mr.  Hill,  im- 
pressed with  Dr.  Green's  love  for  the  preachers, 
writes : 

"I  have  sometimes  heard  it  said  of  Dr.  Green, 
as  is  alleged  of  most  wealthy  men,  that  he  was 
not  so  liberal  with  his  means  as  he  might  have 
been.  I  suppose,  though,  that  no  one  who  knew 
him  well  ever  brought  such  a  charge  against  him. 


184  PHILANTHROPY   AND   OTHER  MATTERS. 

While  many  of  his  charities  arc  known  publicly,  he 
did  much  in  a  <|iiH't  way  that  none  knew  but  those 
whom  he  benefited.  In  giving  he  acted  upon  the 
principle  of  not  letting  the  left-hand  know  what 
the  right-hand  doeth.  I  gratefully  remember  an  in- 
cident of  this  kind  connected  with  myself. 

"For  two  years  he  was  my  Presiding  Elder.  The 
Church  being  weak,  the  pastor's  salary  wras  quite 
moderate.  At  the  meeting  of  each  Quarterly  Con- 
ference of  both  years  Dr.  Green  insisted  upon  being 
paid  the  amount  due  him,  but  at  the  close  of  each 
year  he  privately  handed  me  a  check  for  the  whole 
amount  that  he  had  received:  and  though  I  objected 
to  taking  it,  he  insisted  upon  my  doing  so,  with  the 
positive  injunction  that  I  should  say  nothing  about  it. 
I  doubt  not  other  members  of  the  Tennessee  Con- 
ference can  give  a  similar  experience. 

"Dr.  Green  not  only  had  a  large  brain,  but  a  big 
heart,  full  of  generosity  and  true  charity.  He  was 
a  great,  grand  man,  independent  of  the  criticisms  of 
others,  yet  always  striving  earnestly  to  do  his  whole 
duty  to  God  and  his  fellow-creatures." 

Here  is  a  letter  to  the  point  from  the  Rev.  Will- 
iam Doss,  of  the  Tennessee  Conference,  from  which 
we  extract:  "Dr.  Green  was  a  philanthropist.  He 
was  well  known  in  the  Conference  cabinet  for  a 
large  portion  of  his  life.  Here  he  was  the  guiding- 
star;  and  in  no  department  of  the  Church  are  his 
wise  counsels  more  missed.  Whenever  a  brother 
was  likely  to  be  oppressed,  he  was  sure  to  find  a 
friend  in  Dr.  Green.  If  an  old  man  was  likely  to 
be  shoved  off,  he  was  the  last  one  to  get  weary  in 


PHILANTHROPY   AND   OTHER   MATTERS.  185 

hunting  him  a  place.  Of  this  the  following  inci- 
dent is  strikingly  illustrative: 

"Once,  while  representing  a  District,  an  old 
man,  who  had  been  in  my  charge  the  previous  year, 
although  a  good  man,  on  account  of  some  pecul- 
iarities, had  become  unacceptable.  I  informed  the 
Bishop  that  I  could  find  no  work  in  my  District 
with  which  the  old  preacher  could  be  safely  in- 
trusted. This  announcement  aroused  Dr.  Green, 
and  he  at  once  commenced  a  diligent  search  all  over 
the  Conference  for  a  place.  At  every  meeting  of 
the  cabinet  the  search  was  continued;  he  would  in- 
quire of  this  brother  and  that.  Long  before  the 
scene  ended  I  felt  reproved  that  I  had  not  made 
greater  efforts  to  find  my  man  a  place.  Finally  to- 
ward the  close  of  the  session,  finding  a  place  no- 
where else  for  the  old  veteran,  he  took  him  on  a 
good  circuit  in  his  own  District.  That  year  the  old 
man  fell  at  his  post." 

To  the  eye  of  a  stranger,  during  the  session  of  the 
Conference,  my  father  may  have  seemed  a  log-roller, 
or  an  electioneerer.  It  was  not  strange  to  find  him 
aside,  button-holed  by  an  ambitious  young  itinerant, 
or  a  feeble,  care-worn  veteran,  relating  the  same  old 
story,  and  beseeching  his  influence  with  the  appoint- 
ing power. 

Dr.  D.  C.  Kelley  says:  "Dr.  Green's  knowledge 
of  men  was  large,  for  he  had  mingled  with  them  in 
all  their  phases,  and  had  not  only  observed  widely, 
but  thought  deeply.  He  used  his  knowledge  not 
deceitfully,  but  lovingly,  to  accomplish  good,  both 
for  them  and  the  Church.  His  friendships  were  of 


186  PHILANTHROPY    AND    OTHER    MATTERS. 

the  strongest  cast.  No  iiuin  who  ever  called  A.  L. 
P.  Green  friend  had  a  right  to  sav,  afterward,  'I  am 
without  a  friend.'  The  most  uncultured  preacher- 
boy,  entering  with  timid  and  awkward  tread  upon 
the  arena  of  his  life-work,  found  in  him  not  only  a 
wise  counselor,  but  a  kind-hearted  and  sympathetic 
friend,  who  when  he  had  once  taken  hold  of  him 
never  let  him  go.  Again  and  again  have  we  seen 
him  on  the  Conference-floor  performing  the  loving 
duty  of  lightening  the  heart  of  the  old  preacher  of 
the  sorrow  of  yielding  the  burdens  of  active  duty 
and  going  to  the  roll  of  the  superannuated,  saying: 
'It  is  not  because  you  are  less  necessary  to  us  that 
we  thus  refuse  to  send  you  to  the  front,  where  the 
aftray  is  the  hottest,  but  because  of  the  value  of 
your  experience  we  must  keep  you  where  we  can 
preserve  your  wisdom  longest  to  guide  us.  We 
are  not  turning  you  out,  as  the  old  horse,  to  graze 
on  the  commons,  but  only  giving  you  the  freedom 
of  all  our  homes.  When  you  come,  the  warmest 
places  at  our  hearth-stones,  and  the  choicest  places 
in  our  hearts,  you  will  find  to  be  yours.' 

"There  is  an  involuntary  heart-ache  as  the  ques- 
tions come  up,  'Who  is  to  encourage  the  young 
men  with  a  smile?  who  to  divide  the  sorrows  of  the 
old,  now  that  he  is  gone?' 

"  Perhaps  to  the  casual  observer  his  most  marked 
excellence  was  contained  in  the  beatitude,  'Blessed 
are  the  peace-makers,  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
children  of  God.'  Many  a  time,  in  the  perturbation 
of  debate  in  Church-convocations,  have  we  known  a 
few  sentences  from  him  to  allay  excitement,  and 


PHILANTHROPY   AND    OTHER   MATTERS.  187 

bring  brethren  to  see  each  other  in  the  light  of 
kindness.  This  did  not  arise,  as  in  many  cases, 
from  a  negative  or  emotionless  nature,  but  from  the 
great  size  of  his  heart  and  width  of  his  brain.  While 
others  only  saw  one  side  of  a  question,  and  were 
bitter  in  their  denunciations  of  what  was  to  them 
utter  falsehood,  he  with  unrivaled  calmness  looked 
quietly  at  all  its  phases  and  possible  developments; 
saw  the  truths  of  both  sides,  and  brought  antago- 
nists together  in  his  broader  light. 

"  He  possessed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  that  rare 
power  of  never  losing  sight  of  either  principles  or 
men.  You  have  known  many  men,  gifted  with  the 
power  to  win  large  success,  who  so  adhered  to  prin- 
ciple that  in  the  determined  force  of  their  progress 
they  were  likely  to  trample  down  friend  or  foe, 
crushing  the  heart-strings  of  those  very  friends  by 
the  force  of  their  advance.  Other  strong  men  you 
have  known  whose  devotion  to  friends  was  such  as 
to  make  their  advance  wavering  and  their  achieve- 
ments doubtful.  Dr.  Green  naver  lost  sight  of  a 
principle,  nor  wavered  when  he  deemed  it  important 
to  press  it  to  its  farthest  result ;  yet  in  doing  so  the 
claims  of  the  hearts  of  his  friends  were  held  in 
sacred  memory." 

Dr.  Green  was  interested  in  all  the  little  affairs  of 
the  young  people.  There  was  no  unapproachable 
dignity  or  grandeur  about  him.  The  boys  talked 
to  him  about  just  any  thing.  We  find  him  in  1873. 
when  very  much  afflicted  in  body,  corresponding 
with  (Rev.)  W.  R.  Peebles,  who  was  then  preparing 
for  the  ministry,  on  the  momentous  (?)  question  as 


188  PHILANTHROPY   AND   OTHER  MATTERS. 

to  whether  he  should  study  Hebrew  or  not.  The 
good  advice  was  that  he  should  go  on  and  get  his 
diploma,  and  then  study  Hebrew. 

Generous  as  brave, 
Affection,  kindness,  the  sweet  offices 
Of  love  and  duty,  were  to  him  as  needful 
As  his  daily  bread. 


38. 
THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLING. 

|Y  father,  as  I  have  said  before,  was  asso- 
ciated in  early  life  with  the  Creek  and 
Cherokee  Indians,  and,  no  doubt,  while 
with  them  imbibed  his  love  for  the  woods 
and  streams.  He  was  first  a  hunter,  and  then  a 
fisherman.  He  was  a  crack  shot  with  the  old  Ken- 
tucky rifle,  but  would  never  recognize  any  thing  in 
the  way  of  game  short  of  a  deer  or  wild-turkey. 
So,  as  the  country  became  settled,  and  the  game  of 
the  nobler  sort  very  scarce,  the  rifle  was  laid  aside 
for  the  more  apostolic  and  gentle  sport  of  fishing. 
Indeed,  he  had  very  little  respect  for  a  shot-gun, 
and  complained  of  its  offensive  noise,  being  in  strik- 
ing contrast  with  the  musical  ring  of  a  rifle;  to  him 
the  former  was  heavy,  sober  prose — the  latter  was 
exhilarating,  euphonious  poetry. 

Considering  his  extreme  fondness  for  fishing,  he 
indulged  but  little — only  now  and  then,  when  the 
calls  of  the  Church  would  permit.  No  fishing-trip 
ever  contravened  a  religious  or  clerical  duty.  When 
on  his  angling  excursions  he  was  always  ready  and 
eager  to  catch  men  on  the  Sabbath-day.  Mr.  Irby 
Morgan,  of  Edgefield,  a  devoted  friend,  occasionally 

(189) 


190  THE    ANGLER   AND    AN<iUX<!. 

twitted  him  with  the  playful  remark,  "Dr.  Green, 
you  would  have  been  made  a  Bishop  long  ago,  hut 
you  are  too  rich  and  too  fond  of  fishing."  My 
opinion  may  he  worth  nothing  in  this  matter;  but  I 
think  my  father,  by  his  social  influence,  as  far  as  it 
extruded,  elevated  the  angler  and  angling.  For  the 
last  forty  years  the  amateur  fishermen  of  Nashville 
and  vicinity  have  been  the  most  high-toned,  honor- 
able gentlemen. 

Dr.  Green  angled  for  game-fish  only.  His  tackle 
was  of  the  very  best  quality — a  trim,  lithe  rod,  a 
Meek-reel,  a  clean,  silk-plat  line,  an  improved  min- 
now-bucket, and  a  basket.  He  was  successful,  not 
because  he  was  patient — for  patience  never  catches 
fish — but  because  he  knew  the  habits  of  fish,  knew 
where  to  find  them,  knew  where  to  throw  his  line, 
and  was  energetic.  He  did  not  set  out  his  poles, 
and  then  placidly  wait  for  a  bite,  refreshing  himself 
with  a  newspaper  and  a  cigar  for  four  or  five  hours. 
He  knew  that  a  live  minnow,  thrown  into  deep 
water,  is  a  wily  fellow,  and  takes  shelter  under  the 
nearest  rock  or  leaf  at  the  bottom ;  and  hence,  every 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  Dr.  Green  was  manipu- 
lating his  reel,  or  moving  his  pole  just  a  little,  to 
expose  the  bait.  He  knew  how  to  fish;  he  was  at- 
tentive, and  spared  no  physical  exertion;  therefore, 
he  caught  fish. 

For  the-  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years  of  his  life  his 
field-sport  was  almost  confined  to  an  annual  excur- 
sion of  two  weeks  in  November.  For  a  number  of 
years  a  small,  select  party  went  on  these  trips,  which 
suggested  at  last  the  formal  organization  of  tho 


THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLING.          191 

"Nashville  and  Edgefield  Angling  Club,"  composed 
of  gentlemen  who,  in  the  hazy  month  when  the  year 
is  old  and  the  woods  are  gold,  hied  away  and  pitched 
their  tents  by  the  deep-blue  stream.  Each  laid  his 
head  on  a  pillow  of  leaves  that  were  brown  and  red, 
and  they  awoke  to  the  music  a  fisherman  loves  the 
best — the  click  of  the  reel. 

Mr.  C.  E.  Hillman,  of  Nashville,  the  last  secretary 
of  the  Club,  has  kindly  tendered  for  my  inspection 
the  "Record  Book."  There  may  have  been  a  tear 
in  his  eye  when  he  handed  me  the  book,  saying, 
"Mr.  Green,  it  makes  me  sad  to  open  that  book;  I 
prize  it  very  highly;  do  not  let  any  one  read  it,  and 
take  good  care  of  it." 

The  first  meeting  of  the  Club  was  held  June  21, 
1856.  The  "Constitution  and  By-laws,"  composed 
by  Mr.  Nicholas  Hobson,  is  a  neat,  elaborate  docu- 
ment of  its  kind.  Among  other  pertinent  rules,  the 
use  of  strong  drink  and  indelicate  language  is  for- 
bidden while  on  their  excursions.  The  signers  of 

o 

this  Constitution  are  Messrs.  N.  Ilobson,  A.  L.  P. 
Green,  Jesse  Thomas,  Alexander  Fall,  John  W. 
Terrass,  Jo.  G.  Brown,  C.  E.  Hillman,  K.  C.  Mc- 
Nairy,  John  P.  Ford,  G.  P.  Smith,  and  William  B. 
Ewing.  Seven  of  these  have  laid  down  the  rod  and 
reel,  and  passed  over  the  river.  I  find  beautiful 
tributes  to  the  memories  of  three  brother-anglers — 
Mr.  Jo.  G.  Brown,  Dr.  John  P.  Ford,  and  Mr.  Al- 
exander Fall.  Since  the  death  of  Messrs.  Green, 
Hobson*  McNairy,  and  Ewing,  no  meeting  has  been 
held.  A  sad  answer  is  returned  to  the  good  people 
on  Buffalo  when  they  inquire,  "Why  does  not  tlie 


192  THE  AN<;U-:I:  ANI>  A.NCI.INC. 

Club  comedown?"  Tin-  names  of  Messrs.  Anthony 
"W.  Johnson  and  William  IVtway  appear  as  honor- 
ary nHMnluTs,  in  1858.  The  Club  never  had  but  one 
president  during  its  existence — Nicholas  Hobson. 
R.  C.  MVNairy  was  the  first,  Alexander  Fall  the 
second,  and  Charles  E.  Hillman  the  last  secretary. 
Dr.  John  P.  Ford  was  the  first,  and  Dr.  G.  P.  Smith 
the  last  surgeon.  Mr.  Jesse  Thomas  was  the  treas- 
urer, and  had  no  successor.  So  active  was  he  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duties  that  the  Club  compliments 
him  with  a  vote  of  thanks. 

In  1857  the  Club  presented  a  memorial  to  the 
Legislature  of  Tennessee,  begging  the  protection  of 
game  in  the  State.  This  memorial  was  a  pamphlet 
prepared  with  a  great  deal  of  care  and  study  by  Dr. 
Green. 

In  1865  the  Club  meet,  and  first  kneel  in  prayer, 
led  by  the  chaplain,  Dr.  Green,  who  returns  thanks 
to  God  for  the  preservation  of  their  lives  during  the 
eventful  and  trying  years  of  the  war. 

Mr.  C.  E.  Hillman  has  furnished  me  with  the  fol- 
lowing incident  from  his  memories  of  the  delectable 
excursions  of  the  Club.  Mr.  Hillman  does  not  fall 
down  and  worship  a  fine  trout;  but  when  the  poles 
and  the  minnow-bucket  are  placed  in  the  wagon, 
there  is  a  wonderful  elasticity  in  his  step  and  a 
strange  fire  in  his  eye.  He  says: 

"  We  had  pitched  our  tents  on  Buffalo  Creek. 
There  was  a  full  attendance  of  the  Club.  Uncle 
Nick  (Mr.  Nicholas  Hobson)  and  Mr.  MclSTairy  had 
been  drawing  the  net,  some  months  before,  in  Turn- 
bull  Creek,  in  quest  of  bait.  Alexander  Fall  and  I 


THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLING.  193 

were  carrying  the  buckets.  Uncle  Nick,  spying  a 
large,  four-pound  trout  in  a  small  pocket  just  ahead, 
cried,  *  Hill  man,  come  take  the  staff,  and  help  catch 
him ! '  Knowing  that  it  was  against  the  rule  to  take 
a  large  fish  in  a  net,  I  hesitated;  but,  Uncle  Nick 
being  president,  I  reluctantly  obeyed.  The  fish  was 
caught,  and  the  right  of  discovery  gave  him  to 
Uncle  Nick. 

"Night  came;  the  supper  was  over;  the  light  of 
the  camp-fire  fell  on  the  faces  of  the  Club  as  they 
sat  in  silence  on  their  stools.  The  secretary,  note- 
book in  hand,  was  ready  to  receive  the  reports  of 
the  day's  sport — the  number  of  fish,  the  kind  of 
fish,  the  size,  and  how  taken;  also,  a  general  report 
of  excursions  during  the  spring  and  summer.  Uncle 
Nick  came  last;  his  reports  condemned  him;  he  had 
violated  the  law,  and  must  be  tried.  Col.  Anthony 
\V.  Johnson  was  the  judge -advocate;  Dr.  Green 
and  Dr.  Ford  were  the  prosecuting  attorneys;  Mc- 
Nairy,  Terrass,  and  I  were  the  witnesses.  Dr.  Green 
made  the  opening  speech,  in  which  he  stated  'the 
enormity  of  the  offense,  aggravated  by  the  offender 
being  the  president  of  the  Club.''  Dr.  Ford,  mild 
and  gentle  as  a  woman,  followed.  He  was  very  '  sad 
that  the  president  of  the  Club,  and  an  old  man,  had 
set  such  an  example  before  the  younger  members.' 
The  sentence  of  the  judge  was  that  Dr.  Ford,  ac- 
cording to  the  enormity  of  the  offense,  should  ad- 
minister a  reprimand.  The  Doctor  advanced,  and 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  beautiful  silver  reel,  with 
the  date  and  name  engraved  upon  it,  and,  in  a  few 
well-chosen  remarks,  reprimanded  the  president  with 
9 


194  Till-     AXCLKK    AM)    AXiJUXC. 

it  in  the  name  of  the  Club.  Uncle  Nick  received 
the  reel,  while  the  tears  streamed  down  his  face; 
and  I  am  candid  in  affirming  that  I  never  saw  as 
pretty  a  scene  as  that  in  my  life. 

••  We  also  had  a  great  deal  of  merriment  in  the 
trial  of  Dr.  Green.  The  charge  was  that  a  large 
channel-cat  that  belonged  to  another  member  of  the 
Club  had  been  found  among  his  fish. 

"Dick,  the  negro  servant  of  Uncle  Nick,  was 
tried  for  fishing  on  Sunday.  The  sentence  was  that 
he  should  fish  for  twenty-four  hours  in  a  tub  of 
water,  with  a  cotton  line  and  a  pin -hook."  My 
father  states  that  the  punishment  in  this  case  did 
not  cure  Dick;  that  he  was  tried  again  for  the  same 
offense,  and  the  sentence  was  that  he  should  go  to 
an  old  mill  on  the  river,  said  to  be  haunted,  and  stay 
from  ten  o'clock  till  daylight.  Dick  answered, 
when  he  heard  the  sentence,  "You  may  kill  me 
right  now;  I  'm  not  going  to  dat  mill ! " 

These  excursions  were  not  only  a  pleasure  to 
those  who  went,  but  to  those  who  remained  at 
home.  Many  were  the  side-splitting  jokes  that 
went  round,  and  the  fish-stories  that  gladdened  the 
whole  year  that  followed.  I  was  never  on  one  of 
these  expeditions,  for  the  very  best  of  reasons  to  a 
modest  boy — I  was  never  invited — but  I  enjoyed 
with  the  keenest  zest  the  fireside  memories.  Poor 
Dick!  the  war  carried  away  his  golden  age.  While 
a  slave  every  wish  was  gratified,  and  he  knew  noth- 
ing but  kindness  from  the  hands  of  his  old  master. 
I  saw  him  the  last  time,  ragged  and  alone,  sitting  on 
the  bank  of  the  Cumberland,  with  his  rod  and  lino. 


THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLING.          195 

The  great  conflict  was  going  on,  but  Dick — true  to 
his  old  love,  oblivious  of  the  rush  of  armies  and  the 
crash  of  fortunes — was  placidly  waiting  for  a  bite. 
Dick  has  gone  with  the  other  fishermen;  he  has 
passed  over  the  river. 

Mr.  M.  A.  McClaugherty,  one  of  my  father's  most 
intimate  fishing-chums,  writes: 

"Perhaps  no  man  who  has  devoted  a  long  life  to 
the  Church  was  so  intimately  known  by  all  classes 
of  people  as  Dr.  Green;  saint  and  sinner  knew  him 
alike. 

"Dr.  Green's  reputation  as  a  fisherman  was  almost 
world-wide.  His  animal  fishing-excursion  became 
a  part  of  his  life.  The  year  was  not  complete  until 
the  camp-fires  had  been  burned. 

"It  has  been  the  high  privilege  of  the  writer  to 
spend  weeks  and  months  with  Dr.  Green  around  the 
camp-fire.  There  alone  could  he  be  known  in  his 
native  simplicity  and  greatness — 

Alike  for  courts,  and  camps,  and  senates  fit. 

"Dr.  Green,  Mr.  Seth  Green,  of  New  York — now 
Fish  Commissioner  of -that  State — and  a  few  other 
friends,  all  expert  anglers,  were  enjoying  a  social 
dinner-party  on  the  Eastern  coast,  when  a  commit- 
tee of  three  was  appointed  to  propose  a  query — a 
fine  silver  fishing -reel  to  be  awarded  the  party 
giving  the  most  appropriate  answer.  The  query 
propounded  was,  'Which  is  the  better  side  of  the 
stream  for  fishing?'  Dr.  Green  answered,  'That 
side  on  which  the  shadow  of  the  fisherman  is  cast 
from  the  water.'  The  prize  was  awarded  to  Dr. 
Green,  and  the  writer  is  now  in  possession  of  the 


196  THE    ANiiLKU    AND    ANGLING. 

identical  reel,  having  been  the  happy  recipient  of 
the  same  as  a  present  from  the  Doctor,  a  short  time 
before  his  death." 

I  have  a  letter  from  my  father,  written  after  his 
return  from  the  fishing-trip  of  1868.  He  writes: 

"My  annual  fishing-trip — well,  it  is  over!  The 
company  consisted  of  W.  1\.  Elliston,  John  Elliston, 
Mr.  Porter,  Mr.  McClaughcrt}7,  Brother  Warren, 
Mr.  Seth  Settle,  and  a  negro  by  the  name  of  Reuben, 
who  went  along  in  the  capacity  of  cook.  William 
and  John  Elliston  carried  guns;  the  rest  of  us  car- 
ried fishing-tackle.  We  went  on  the  cars  to  Wav- 
erly,  and  then  took  a  wagon  twelve  miles  to  what  is 
called  the  Whirl.  We  learned  that  Irby  Morgan 
had  been  camping  at  the  Lake  for  some  weeks.  We 
found  Buffalo  as  clear  as  glass,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  the  chance  was  bad  for  angling,  though  we 
caught  a  goodly  number  of  fish — mainly  caught  by 
Brother  Warren  and  I,  as  we  had  more  experience 
in  fishing  in  clear  water.  We  lived  in  good  state, 
had  a  fine  cook,  tent,  and  appetites,  and  enjoyed  our- 
selves finely.  We  had  fish,  squirrels,  birds,  ham, 
coffee,  and  the  like.  We  brought  home  some  good 
fish,  but  not  as  many  as  usual." 

Dr.  E.  T.  Bainbridge  writes:  "I  have  now  a  fish- 
ing-rod— a  present  from  Dr.  Green — that  I  prize 
more  highly  than  almost  any  article  I  possess,  not 
for  its  intrinsic  value,  but  in  memory  of  the  exalted 
estimation  in  which  I  held  the  generous  donor.  On 
one  occasion  I  met  Dr.  Green  on  the  banks  of  a 
stream  (Sycamore  Creek).  A  rather  dissolute,  prof- 
ligate character  conceived  a  strong  desire  to  possess 


THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLING.          197 

an  article  of  his  beautiful  tackle.  On  discovering 
the  character  of  the  person,  he  made  an  earnest 
though  simple  appeal,  so  admirably  adapted  to  the 
occasion  that  the  poor,  abandoned  creature's  better 
feelings  were  aroused.  He  gave  him  the  coveted  ar- 
ticle, asking  kindly,  in  remuneration,  that  he  would 
'desist  from  pursuing  farther  his  disastrous  course, 
and  would  attend  the  neighborhood  Sabbath-school,' 
which  he  did  afterward." 

We  extract  from  a  letter  of  Dr.  J.  G.  Wilson.  He 
writes:  "Not  a  great  while  after  I  received  license 
to  preach  I  went  with  Dr.  Green,  in  his  buggy,  to 
his  quarterly-meeting  at  ISTeely's  Chapel,  in  Ruther- 
ford county,  Tennessee.  I  greatly  enjoyed  the  trip, 
from  the  sage,  humorous,  and  trite  remarks  upon 
men  and  things,  which  were  interspersed  among 
more  sober  counsels  about  the  work  of  a  preacher, 
which  he  was  always  ready,  in  a  quiet,  fatherly  way, 
to  impart  to  a  younger  brother.  There  was  in  at- 
tendance at  this  meeting  an  old  lay  Brother  B.,  from 
another  circuit,  who,  while  not  a  miser,  was  very 
fond  of  making  money.  He  was  complaining  to  Dr. 
Green  that  he  was  beginning  to  feel  the  infirmities 
of  age  creeping  upon  him.  'I  tell  you  what  you 
ought  to  do,  Brother  B.,'  said  the  Doctor,  '  and  it 
will  help  to  keep  you  fresh  and  young.  There  are 
plenty  of  fine  trout  in  the  creek  near  your  home; 
you  ought  to  get  you  some  tackle,  and  spend  a  few 
hours  occasionally  along  the  creek  catching  them. 
It  would  tend  to  divert  your  mind  and  keep  you 
from  growing  old  too  fast.'  The  good  brother,  who 
knew  the  Doctor's  fondness  for  the  sport,  said, 


198          THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLINQ. 

'  Well,  I  do  think  of  it  sometimes;  but  if  I  should 
be  going  to  the  creek  with  a  lot  of  fishing-poles  on 
my  shoulder,  and  should  meet  one  of  my  neighbors 
going  about  his  business,  or  looking  after  his  farm, 
I'd  feel  la/.y  and  mean.'  'Yes,'  was  the  reply,  'you 
can't  go  do\vn  to  the  creek  in  search  of  innocent 
sport  and  freshness  of  feeling;  but,  I'll  be  bound,  if 
anybody  should  tell  yon  that  there  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  one  of  those  deep  holes  a  silver  bit,  you  'd  be 
found  flat  on  your  belly,  on  a  puncheon,  floating 
down  and  grabbing  for  it.'  At  night  we  all  three 
occupied  the  same  room — the  Doctor  and  I  in  one 
bed,  and  Brother  B.  in  the  other.  A  conversation 
was  kept  up  for  some  time,  in  the  course  of  which 
the  brother  told  how  some  man  who  owed  him  seven 
hundred  dollars  had  run  off  down  to  Mississippi, 
and  how  he  had  followed  him  up  and  got  the  money. 
The  conversation  was  then  turned  to  the  subject  of 
religion,  and  the  brother  finally  said  that  as  he  got 
older  the  greatest  desire  of  his  heart  was  to  enjoy 
more  of  the  life  and  power  of  religion.  'Lord  help 
you,  Brother  B.!'  said  the  Doctor.  'Suppose  I 
should  tell  you  that  down  in  Georgia  or  Alabama 
there  was  a  man  who  could  put  you  in  the  way  to 
get  more  of  the  life  and  power  of  religion,  do  you 
think  that  you  would  follow  him  up  as  you  did  that 
man  for  the  seven  hundred  dollars?'  That  closed 
the  conversation." 

Bishop  McTyeire  has  caught  more  men  and  tied 
them  out  than  he  has  fishes,  but  we  are  glad  to  hear 
him,  even  in  this  connection.  He  says:  "Dr.  Green 
knew  how  to  work,  and  also  how  to  rest.  He  habit- 


THE  ANGLER  AND  ANGLING-  199 

ually  devoted  a  week  or  ten  days  to  an  annual  fish- 
ing-excursion, camping  out.  I  dare  say  he  was  as 
well  acquainted  with  the  nature  and  habits  of  fish, 
and  the  best  way  of  catching  them,  as  Simon  Peter 
himself.  I  was  holding  a  District  Conference  in  the 
Valley  of  the  Tennessee,  near  the  mouth  of  Duck 
River.  Said  one,  '  We  have  good  preaching  all  the 
year  round  in  Big  Bottom ;  but  once  a  year  we  have 
fine  times,  when  Dr.  Green  conies  a-fishing.'  My 
host  said,  '  The  horse  you  are  on  is  the  one  the  Doc- 
tor rides;  for  we  send  into  the  swamp  to  fetch  him 
out  to  meeting.  His  boat  is  on  Clear  Lake  to-day, 
tied  to  the  shore?  " 

Dr.  Summers  may  have  caught  a  few  fish  by  ac- 
cident. We  know  that  he  is  fond  of  red-snapper. 
He  says:  "Dr.  Green  was  fond  of  fishing;  could 
beat  Izaak  Walton  in  the  gentle  sport;  had  fished 
in  most  of  the  principal  waters  east  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains;  has  left  an  unfinished  work  on  fishing, 
which  we  hoped  to  edit  for  him.  His  fishing-excur- 
sions were  made  tributary  to  his  benevolent  efibrts 
to  benefit  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  and 
over  whom  he  wielded  a  weird  influence;  for  he  was 
a  fisher  of  men  as  well  as  of  fish,  and  thousands 
were  caught  by  him  in  the  gospel  net." 

He  finds  time  during  the  General  Conference  to 
write  about  fishing.  He  says:  "You  and  Frank 
had  bad  luck  fishing,  from  the  account  you  give  of 
the  matter.  Well,  it  has  been  a  long  time  since  I 
was  fishing.  I  have  almost  forgotten  how  it  feels. 
I  think  I  may  have  another  chance  some  time." 

Well,  it  is  time  we  were  reeling  in  the  lines  and 


200  THE  ANGLER  AND  AXCLIXC. 

taking  up  the  poles.  We  will  call  the  roll  of  the 
Chili.  Jesse  Thomas  answers  "Present!"  He  fills 
his  pipe  with  the  best  tobacco,  and  grows  animated 
as  he  relates  the  charming  history  of  the  Club,  lie 
goes  on  a  short  angling-tour  once  a  year,  v/ith  his 
sons  James  and  Litton.  Messrs.  Hillman,  Terruss, 
and  Petway  renew  their  youth  occasionally  on  the 
banks  of  some  neighboring  stream.  Col.  Anthony 
~W.  Johnson  is  not  a  haughty,  proud-looking  man 
as  he  walks  through  the  streets  of  the  city;  but 
when  he  gets  into  that  fishing-wagon,  and  drives 
through  Edgefield,  no  grander  or  more  imperious- 
looking  man  can  be  found  than  he. 

My  father  had  some  apprentices  —  Messrs.  Fur- 
man,  Akers,  McClaugherty,  Settle,  and  Fite — who 
are  promising  anglers.  But  the  lines  and  poles  are 
in,  and  the  night  has  come  down.  God  bless  the  old 

Club! 

Where  cooling  vapors  breathe  along  the  mead, 
The  patient  fisher  takes  his  silent  stand, 
Intent,  his  angle  trembling  in  his  hand. 


39. 
LITERAEY — WHAT  THE  BRETHREN  SAY. 

BR.  GREEN'S  education  did  not  entitle  him 
to  an  honorable  place  among  the  gens  de 
lettres,  and  yet  it  may  be  lawful  to  speak 
of  him  as  a  literary  man,  since  he  read, 
wrote,  preached,  and  delivered  orations.  There 
were  features  attaching  to  his  literary  character  of 
which  his  most  intimate  friends  were  not  aware. 
Most  men  have  an  idea  that  to  study  to  profit  they 
must  have  pen,  ink,  paper,  table,  and  a  library,  and 
be  alone.  Dr.  Green  could  study  anywhere,  with 
any  surroundings,  and  indeed  was  a  perpetual  stu- 
dent; hence,  he  was  always  ready.  His  sermons, 
for  the  most  part,  were  made  of  what  he  saw  and 
heard  by  the  way.  His  published  articles  were  the 
productions  of  experience,  natural  wisdom,  and 
genius.  He  read  books,  the  very  best  books,  but 
they  were  subordinated  and  assimilated.  What  he 
learned  by  observation  was  first,  what  he  read  was 
second.  He  admired  the  landscape  painting,  but 
not  more  than  the  original.  His  images  were  bor- 
rowed from  the  works  of  the  Master,  not  the  imita- 
tions of  the  copyist. 

He  studied  his  sermons  more  than  one  would  sup- 
0*  (201) 


202  LITERARY — WHAT    THE    BRETHREN    SAY. 

pose.  He  told  me  that  he  generally  hud  a  sermon 
in  his  mind  twenty-four  hours  before  preaching. 
On  the  street,  in  the  social  circle,  on  the  cars,  he 
could  prepare  a  discourse,  without  any  seeming  ab- 
straction of  mind.  His  published  articles  were  re- 
written, if  time  would  allow,  the  second  time.  lie 
prepared  three  manuscripts  of  his  "Alpine  Hunter." 

Bishop  Paine  writes:  "Dr.  Green  read  much  dur- 
ing the  first  fifteen  years  of  his  ministry,  especially 
standard  works  in  theology  and  in  biblical  and  Eng- 
lish literature.  Indeed,  he  always  kept  his  mind 
lubricated  with  good  and  useful  reading.  He  trav- 
eled a  good  deal,  mingled  with  the  better  classes  of 
society,  was  a  shrewd  observer  of  men  and  things, 
had  a  vast  amount  of  common  sense,  yet  combin- 
ing with  the  practical  the  faculty  of  fancy  in  a  high 
degree.  The  two  factors  which  gave  individuality 
and  prominence  to  his  intellectual  character  were 
thoughtfulness  and  decisiveness:  these  elements  are 
essential  in  forming  a  wise  man  and  a  great  leader; 
and  such  he  was." 

Bishop  McTyeire  says,  "  He  was  no  mean  writer, 
and  contributed  much  to  the  Church-press.  "With 
the  advantage  of  education  on  his  side  he  could 
have  produced  papers  equal  to  Longstreet  or  Chris- 
topher North,  in  descriptive  power,  in  humor,  in 
originality  and  moral  raciness.  His  school  and  his 
school-masters  were  circumstances  and  contempo- 
rary men.  He  read  Clarke's  Commentary  through, 
volume  by  volume,  soon  after  it  was  republished  in 
this  country.  I  never  heard  him  use  an  incident  or 
illustration  taken  out  of  ancient  or  modern  history. 


LITERARY — WHAT    THE    BRETHREN    SAY.  203 

His  food  for  thought  and  material  for  illustration 
were  furnished  by  observation  and  taken  out  of 
common  life.  Without  losing  his  identity  he  ab- 
sorbed much  knowledge  from  the  atmosphere  he 
was  in." 

Dr.  J.  W.  Hanner  says,  "I  was  reading  Shakes- 
peare when  Dr.  Green  found  me  in  my  Edgefield 
study.  He  spoke  of  the  book  in  a  way  that  aston- 
ished me.  He  did  not  seem  to  appreciate  it — won- 
der if  he  had  read  it?  We  agreed  that  'Paradise 
Lost '  was  overrated  by  literary  folks.  According  to 
our  thought,  Milton  is  great  on  angels,  devils,  rivers, 
and  serpents;  but  we  heard  a  preacher  surpass  him 
on  this  line  of  things.  But  Shakespeare,  with  his 
intrinsic  knowledge  of  human  nature — not  to  like 
Shakespeare!  The  fact  is,  Dr.  Green  seemed  to 
know  what  ought  to  be  in  books  before  reading 
them.  The  more  books  one  reads  the  more  one 
thinks  him  half  right.  He  was  not  bookish  in  his 
science,  mechanics,  or  in  his  grammar." 

Dr.  Hanuer  springs  the  inquiry  as  to  whether  Dr. 
Green  ever  read  Shakespeare.  I  never  heard  him 
say  in  so  many  words  that  he  had,  and  have  only 
circumstantial  evidence  bearing  on  the  question.  I 
remember  an  old  copy  of  Shakespeare  in  my  father's 
library,  which  had  on  one  of  the  fly-leaves  his  auto- 
graph. The  book  was  well  thumbed,  and  supple  in 
the  back,  and  bore  evidences  of  familiar  treatment. 
Dr.  Green  did  not  admire  Shakespeare.  Why? 
Not  because  of  its  want  of  wisdom,  but  because  of 
its  numerous  indelicate  passages.  Perhaps  if  he 
had  read  it  more,  and  at  a  time  of  life  when  his 


204  LITERARY — WHAT    THE    BRETHREN    SAY. 

piety  was  not  so  stern,  his  prejudices  would  have 
been  overcome  by  the  charming  naturalness  of  the 
book.  For  the  reason  that  I  have  stated,  a  <opy  of 
Byron  never  found  its  way  into  my  father's  library. 

Dr.  Green  read  books,  but  was  very  careful  not  to 
bore  kind-hearted  people  with  a  synopsis  of  them. 
He  had  not  the  vanity  of  some  men  in  this  partic- 
ular. He  did  not  pride  himself  on  the  bare  reading 
of  any  book,  and  yet,  when  I  was  only  fifteen  years 
of  age,  he  hired  me  to  read  certain  books  in  his  li- 
brary, which  I  did,  but  felt  compensated  without 
the  premium. 

The  Rev.  William  Witcher  has  furnished  us  the 
following-:  "His  literary  life  was  like  his  physical — 
well-grown.  His  studies  seem  to  have  embraced 
the  whole  circle  of  human  knowledge.  The  most 
intricate  subtilties  of  philosophy  and  the  deeper 
mysteries  of  theological  learning  were  familiar  to 
him.  He  was  a  considerable  poet,  but  did  not  often 
turn  his  genius  loose  in  that  direction." 

Whether  Mr.  Witcher's  estimate  be  literally  true 
or  not  does  not  aft'ect  the  result.  He  thought  so, 
and  the  matter  stands  thus:  If  it  is  just  all  that  a 
man  of  great  learning  can  do  to  impress  the  multi- 
tude with  his  learning,  how  much  greater  is  the  man 
who  can  do  this  without  learning? 

Dr.  R.  A.  Young,  who  has  a  high  regard  for 
literature,  says:  "Dr.  Green  was  not  pedantic.  He 
made  no  ado  about  books.  It  is  said  he  was  never 
known  to  quote  from  a  book  or  an  author  by  name 
in  his  life.  I  have  seen  him  sit  in  my  office  for  two 
hours  before  preaching,  pulling  down  commentaries 


LITERARY — WHAT   THE   BRETHREN    SAY.  205 

and  examining  the  text.  Now,  thought  I,  we  shall 
hear  what  Wesley,  or  Coke,  or  Clarke,  or  Benson 
has  said;  but  he  only  gave  the  results  of  study. 
For  this  reason  some  of  his  brethren  thought  that 
he  did  not  have  many  books,  or  having  them,  he 
did  not  read  them.  A  few  weeks  spent  at  'Green- 
land' always  corrected  this  mistake.  He  was  well 
acquainted  with  Christian  theology  as  taught  by 
Arminius,  Wesley,  Fletcher,  and  Richard  Watson. 
Canon  law  and  Church  government  were  favorite 
studies.  He  was  fond  of  metaphysics  —  read  Ed- 
wards, Bledsoe,  and  Whedon.  He  would  employ 
his  rest-days  through  many  weeks  studying  Com- 
modore Maury's  works  on  Physical  Geography, 
and  Darwin's  'Origin  of  Species,'  and  'Descent  of 
Man;'  but  he  was  not  a  Darwinian.  He  read  all 
the  best  English  poets  and  modern  British  essayists. 
He  took  travels  and  voyages  in  the  place  of  novels 
and  romances.  Nearly  all  our  Church-periodicals 
came  to  his  house.  I  state  these  facts  in  justice  to 
the  character  of  Dr.  Green,  and  because  I  know 
them  to  be  true.  Scarcely  any  country-home  in  this 
land  was  better  supplied  with  books  than  '  Green- 
land.'" 

Dr.  Summers  was  my  father's  literary  Mentor. 
He  says:  "Dr.  Green  courted  the  Muses,  though  he 
found  them  somewhat  coy.  But  his  thoughts  were 
wont  to  run  in  a  rhythmic  form,  and  though  he  did 
not  concern  himself  much  with  the  laws  of  versifi- 
cation, yet  we  have  sometimes  read  a  whole  page 
of  his  blank  verse,  which  he  would  bring  to  us  for 
correction,  without  detecting  a  single  metrical  error. 


206  LITERARY — WHAT    THE    BRETHREN    SAY. 

He  wrote  much  for  our  periodicals.  Some  of  his 
papers,  especially  those  on  the  Aborigines  of  our 
country,  reminiscences  of  old  times,  articles  on 
Church  affairs,  etc.,  are  worthy  of  preservation  in 
book  form.  He  was  rich  in  anecdote,  and  no  one 
could  tell  a  story  better  than  Dr.  Green." 

This  fellow 's  of  exceeding  honesty, 

And  knows  all  qualities,  with  a  learned  spirit, 

Of  human  things. 


4O. 
THE  COMMANDER. 

]R.  GREEN  was  never  at  any  time  thrown 
oft'  his  balance.  Circumstances  of  pleas- 
ure or  pain  never  brought  rhapsodies  or 
despair.  His  noble  spirit,  casemated  with 
love  and  trust,  was  proof  against  the  invaders,  fire, 
flood,  and  pestilence.  On  the  subject  of  self-pos- 
session, which  was  one  of  my  father's  prominent 
traits,  a  number  of  friends  come  to  my  relief.  First, 
we  insert  a  communication  from  Dr.  J.  B.  Walker, 
who  writes  both  in  love  and  in  truth.  He  says: 

"One  of  the  most  marked  of  Dr.  Green's  charac- 
teristics was  calmness  and  self-possession.  This  was 
by  no  means  the  product  of  stoicism;  for  he  was 
not  only  susceptible  of  profound  emotion,  but  act- 
ually in  hearty  sympathy  with  all  that  interested 
his  fellow-men.  We  have  seen  him  exhibit  this 
self-control  in  matters  great  and  small,  not  only 
when  forewarned,  and  therefore  forearmed,  but 
under  sudden  surprise,  showing  that  it  was  not  an 
assumed  but  an  habitual  discipline  of  mind.  I  re- 
member once  dining  with  the  Doctor  and  several 
ministers,  at  the  house  of  Mr.  C.,  of  Tennessee. 
There  was  quite  a  company,  and  animated  and 

(207) 


208  THE    COMMANDER. 

cheerful  conversation  going  forward,  in  which,  ac- 
cording to  his  wont,  he  was  bearing  an  interesting 
part.  I  remember  that  he  was  neatly  dressed  in 
men's  summer  black  suit.  A  servant-girl,  who  was 
handing  around  the  table  a  large  bowl  of  milk, 
through  awkwardness  or  carelessness,  stumbled  and 
spilt  the  contents  of  the  bowl  on  the  shoulder  and 
around  the  skirts  of  the  Doctor's  coat.  Most  men 
would  have  suddenly  drawn  to  one  side,  sprang  up, 
or  said  something  to  express  their  displeasure;  not 
so  the  Doctor.  He  carried  up  the  fork  to  his  mouth, 
and  kept  up  the  smooth  stream  of  his  talk  without 
a  visible  ripple  in  his  words  or  in  his  face.  This 
was  most  polite,  and  considerate  of  the  poor,  fright- 
ened servant,  and  of  the  embarrassment  of  the  la- 
dies of  the  family,  who  were  naturally  distressed  at 
the  awkward  occurrence. 

"We  have  heard  him,  on  great  occasions,  address- 
ing vast  audiences,  when  he  deeply  felt  the  dread  re- 
sponsibility of  the  hour;  but  he  stood  as  straight 
and  as  firm  as  a  shaft  of  marble,  and,  without  the 
shiver  of  a  nerve  or  the  tremor  of  a  tone,  he  would 
calmly  proceed  to  the  profoundest  and  nicest  analy- 
sis of  human  character,  and  lay  down  the  grand 
principles  on  which  eternal  destiny  hinged.  At 
such  times  he  suggested  the  idea  of  some  great  sur- 
geon performing  a  most  difficult  operation,  cutting 
within  a  hair's-breadth  of  some  vital  organ,  but  so 
perfect  a  master  of  his  art  that  he  cut  with  the  calm- 
ness of  self-possession. 

"In  the  supreme  congress  of  the  Church,  in  the 
greatest  emergencies  of  the  times  that  passed  over 


THE   COMMANDER.  209 

him,  his  self-possession  was  equal  to  the  occasion, 
and  he  was  able  to  combine  the  most  oracular  wis- 
dom with  the  most  persuasive  affability  of  manner. 
This  admirable  mental  trait  gave  him  great  power, 
not  only  in  possessing  him  of  his  utmost  resources, 
not  only  in  securing  the  best  expression  of  his  con- 
victions, but  in  the  confidence  which  it  inspired  in 
others  in  the  soundness  and  accuracy  of  his  posi- 
tions. If  he  had  been  commander  of  a  vessel  in  a 
storm,  or  the  general  of  an  army  in  battle,  this  ele- 
ment of  mental  constitution  would  have  come  out 
in  conspicuous  relief,  and  would  have  won  him 
fame." 

On  this  point  Dr.  Young  says:  "Nothing  seemed 
to  disturb  him.  His  calm  courage  was  equal  to  his 
Christian  patience.  If  I  were  an  artist  I  could 
paint  with  equal  ease  Dr.  Green  instructing  a  com- 
pany of  stupid  backwoods  sinners,  or  delivering  an 
argument  against  the  opinions  of  an  Irish  general 
assembly.  Concerning  non-essentials  he  was  as  pli- 
ant as  a  willow-wand;  on  great  principles  he  stood 
firm  as  a  rock." 

We  make  an  easy  and  natural  transfer  from  the 
calm  and  the  self-possessed  to  Dr.  Green  as  a  com- 
mander, a  cabinet-officer,  a  camp-meeting  conductor, 
and  a  manager  of  individuals.  We  quote  from  the 
admirable  letter  of  Dr.  Walker  again : 

"  It  has  been  said  that  some  men  were  born  to 
command.  This  inherent  ruling  power  in  some 
consists  in  a  power  to  inspire  fear,  to  awe  men  into 
obedience;  in  others,  by  a  deeper  and  subtler  cun- 
ning than  average  men  possess;  in  others,  by  hold- 


210  THE    COMMANDER. 

ing  out  to  inferiors  the  hope  of  advantage  by  obe- 
dience. These  are  not  the'  highest  elements  of  the 
ruling  art.  The  model  ruler  not  only  inspires  respect 
for  wisdom  and  integrity — he  not  only  awes  by  a 
certain  force  of  will,  but,  by  gentle,  affable,  and  con- 
ciliatory manners,  he  wins  affection  and  secures 
obedience  in  response  to  love.  Dr.  Green,  along 
with  great  force  and  persistence  of  will,  possessed 
the  winning  way;  and  the  reins  of  power  in  his 
hands  seemed  silken,  and  never  chafed  nor  irritated 
those  over  whom  they  were  held. 

"  It  was  interesting  to  see  and  hear,  at  a  great 
camp-meting,  how  softly  and  successfully  he  man- 
aged the  young  preachers,  placing  the  most  efficient 
workers  in  the  altar  and  the  prayer-meeting.  As 
the  hours  of  the  night  would  wear  away,  and  some 
would  be  fagging  with  weariness  and  hoarseness, 
and  inclined  to  get  about  the  camp-fires  or  tables 
to  refresh  and  talk  over  the  incidents  of  the  work  at 
the  altar,  without  telling  them  to  retire,  the  Doctor 
would  say,  'Brethren,  were  you  thinking  of  calling 
by  the  altar  before  you  go  to  bed,  to  see  how  things 
are  getting  on?'  'O  yes!  certainly  they  were  go- 
ing.' He  would  say  he  thought  it  would  be  well, 
but  not  to  work  too  long,  as  he  thought  they  needed 
rest.  He  got  the  work  done;  but  those  who  did  it 
thought  it  purely  spontaneous,  and  on  their  own 
motions.  How  wise  was  this,  and  how  pleasant  to 
those  under  authority! — like  the  great  natural  proc- 
esses, where  we  witness  results  of  tremendous  power, 
without  noise  or  friction. 

"Few  men  of  our  acquaintance  more  generally 


THE   COMMANDER.  211 

had  their  way,  carried  their  points,  or  were  more 
successful,  and  none  ever  did  so  with  less  offense.  It 
is  a  great  pleasure  when  a  leader  can  secure  a  good- 
humored  acquiescence  in  his  plans;  it  ends  the  op- 
position and  secures  a  permanent  victory." 

Perhaps  more  than  any  other  living  man,  Dr.  J. 
W.  Hanner  was  associated  with  my  father  in  the 
Bishop's  cabinet.  The  Doctor  furnishes  some  inter- 
esting memories  of  the  arcanum  ecdesiasticum.  He 
says : 

"My  first  meeting  in  the  cabinet  with  Dr.  Green 
was  in  Huntsville.  We  went  from  Nashville  in  his 
carriage.  Being  a  new  Presiding  Elder,  representing 
Nashville  District,  he  asked  whom  I  thought  of  as 
a  nomination  for  a  certain  station  difficult  to  fill — 
too  weak  for  a  married  man,  and  ought  not  to  have 
a  single  man.  I  told  him  that  I  did  not  like  to  re- 
veal, lest  he  might  forestall  me.  '  No,'  said  he,  '  I 
will  help  you.'  Then  I  told  him,  very  frankly,  all 
about  it.  'Well,  that  is  first-rate,'  said  he;  'could 
not  be  better.' 

"Bishop  Andrew  did  not  come  to  Conference, 
but  by  letter  appointed  your  father  to  preside;  never 
knew  a  Bishop  to  do  that  before  or  since.  One  or 
two  of  the  brethren,  who  desired  the  place,  did  not 
seem  to  like  the  Bishop's  way  of  doing  this  thing, 
(Il  n'  irnporte  pas.'  He  was  also  Presiding  Elder — 
had  power  to  fill  his  own  District  according  to  his 
wish.  Judge  of  my  surprise  when  he  proposed  to 
put  my  man  down  on  one  of  his  own  circuits.  He 
showed  the  elders  how  proper  it  was;  no  one  ob- 
jected but  myself.  He  dipped  his  pen  into  the  ink, 


212  THE    COMMANDER. 

and  was  about  to  write  him  down.  'Don't  do  that, 
it' you  ph-ase,'  said  I.  'Why  not?'  lie  answered. 
'Because  there  is  a  special  call  for  him  at  another 
place,  and  no  one  else  will  do  as  well.'  'We  can 
iind  another  man  for  that  place.'  'I  think  not.' 
He  made  as  if  he  would  put  him  down.  'Stop!  do 
you  remember  our  conversation  on  the  way  hither?' 
'Yes.'  'Well,  then,  put  him  down,  if  you  wish.' 
He  looked  at  me,  and  passed  on  to  another.  When 
my  turn  came  my  man  went  down  to  the  station 
without  a  word.  [It  is  evident  that  the  intention 
of  Dr.  Green  was  to  hold  the  man  for  Dr.  Hanner.] 

"Many  years  afterward,  in  a  cabinet  meeting  at 
Lebanon,  we  discussed  men  and  places  some  while. 
We  both  wanted  the  same  man.  At  length  I  said, 

'Take  him;  let  me  have  G .'     'No,  you  cannot 

have  him.'     'Give  me  L .'     'No,  I  want  him 

myself.'     '  Then  give  me  C .'     '  No,  he  is  my 

man,  too.'  Said  I,  'Bishop,  how  many  preachers 
belong  to  Dr.  Green  in  fee  simple?  and  who  are  they?' 
Said  the  Bishop,  'He  and  you  can  fix  the  appoint- 
ments, and  one  of  us  must  have  leave  to  go,  as  it  is 
getting  late.  Come,  come  John,  one  might  as  well 
be  put  in  a  strait-jacket ! '  There  was  a  good  Bishop 
[Paine].  He  was  once  a  member  of  the  Tennessee 
Conference.  Everybody  loves  him.  It  was  all  fun- 
religious  fun.  The  Doctor  crossed  the  room,  and 
said,  'Hanner,  give  me  a  chaw  of  tobacco!'  I  like 
human  people." 

Dr.  Green  was  a  commander  not  only  of  very 
large  bodies,  but  when  an  opportunity  offered  ho 
used,  his  skill  in  reconciling  very  obscure  parties. 


THE    COMMANDER.  213 

He  not  only  removed  mountains,  but  searched  out 
small  grains  of  sand  that  grated  and  disturbed  so- 
cial action.  An  incident  furnished  by  Mrs.  S.  F. 
Johnson  is  apropos:  "Once  while  attending  a  camp- 
meeting  where  large  crowds  were  fed  by  the  tenters, 
Dr.  Green  grew  weary  at  the  stand,  and  wound  his 
way  around  to  a  cook-shed  to  warm  his  feet.  Find- 
ing the  cook  in  a  rather  bad  humor,  he  thought  to 
change  her  feelings  by  conversing  with  her  about 
the  good  meeting.  'Well,  aunty,  are  we  not  having 
a  good  meeting?'  (Ah,  Massa,  de  white  folks  is,  but 
'taint  doin'  me  no  good;  I  do  n't  hace  no  chance  to  'joy 
it;  I's  here  all  de  time  cooking  over  dis  fire!'  'But, 
aunty,'  said  the  Doctor,  'you  are  helping  to  carry 
on  the.  meeting  as  much  as  any  of  ns.  Some  of 
us  are  here  to  preach,  some  to  sing,  some  to  pray, 
and  some  to  keep  up  the  tent  and  feed  the  multi- 
tude. I  could  not  preacli  and  pray  much  if  I  did 
not  have  something  to  eat.  We  all  have  to  eat,  and 
if  you  did  not  cook  for  us  the  rest  of  us  could  not 
do  our  part.  You  see,  aunty,  the  work  has  to  go 
on  in  every  part,  and  you  are  doing  your  part.  You 
can  pray  for  us  while  you  are  cooking,  and  the  Lord 
is  pleased  to  make  all  his  servants  happy  while  per- 
forming their  part  of  the  work.'  The  old  aunty 
saw  the  point,  was  in  a  good  humor,  and  from  that 
time  on  enjoyed  the  meeting." 

My  father  was  jealous  of  his  commission,  and 
even  when  sick  at  the  Hot  Springs,  as  a  faithful 
subordinate,  was  looking  after  the  interests  of  his 
great  Captain.  He  writes  to  me  from  Hot  Springs, 
April  6,1874:  "I  have  secured  a  lot,  and  on  last 


214  THi:   COMMANDER. 

Sunday  named  the  matter  to  the  congregation. 
The  church  will  cost  some  three  thousand  dollars, 
and  I  think  the  amount  will  soon  be  raised.  The 
preacher  in  charge  here  is  a  young  man  from  Flor- 
ida, a  good  business  man,  who  loves  his  work,  and 
will  accomplish  good.  I  have  become  helping 
preacher  in  the  Hot  Springs  Charge,  and  assistant 
Presiding  Elder,  as  Dr.  Andrew  Hunter  has  written 
to  me  that  I  must  hold  certain  quarterly-meetings. 
I  preach  every  Sabbath  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  have 
preached  several  times  at  night  in  the  dining-room 
of  the  hotel." 


41. 
THE  GREEN  MEMORIAL. 

HE  "  Green  Memorial "  was  technically,  or 
officially,  styled  the  "Tennessee  Confer- 
ence Memorial,"  for  reasons  patent  to  all 
versed  in  Methodist  usage.  When  the 
call  was  made  in  the  General  Conference  of  1866 
for  memorials,  this  paper  was  presented  by  the  Ten- 
nessee Conference  through  its  delegation.  Those 
acquainted  with  the  pre-confercnce  history  of  this 
paper  know  why  it  was  called  the  "Green  Memo- 
rial." It  might  very  appropriately  have  been  called 
the  "Green -McTyeire  Memorial,"  borrowing  its 
name  from  its  history,  which  I  propose  to  furnish 
in  brief. 

During  the  last  year  of  the  war  between  the 
States,  Dr.  (Bishop)  McTyeire  and  Dr.  Green  were 
thrown  together  frequently  in  Montgomery,  Alaba- 
ma, where  the  former  was  preacher  in  charge.  The 
Southern  Conferences  north  of  the  Tennessee  River 
had  been  for  several  years  in  a  state  of  collapse, 
owing  to  the  presence  of  large  armies  and  the 
general  demoralization  that  attends  military  rule. 
Even  the  Conferences  in  the  Gulf  States  were  very 
much  deranged. 

(21ft) 


216  TIIK    Cl'.KKN    MK.M.UUAL. 

These  two  wise  men  in  Montgomery  were  looking 
ahead,  thinking,  and  praying,  and  planning.  They 
surmised  that  the  end  of  the  war  was  not  far,  and 
that  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  would 
"come  up  from  the  wilderness,"  not  with  a  shout, 
"as  an  army  with  hanners,"  but  depressed  in  spirits 
and  crippled  in  finances.  "Now,"  thought  they,  "is 
the  time  to  strike,  when  the  old  ruts  are  not  so  vis- 
ible, when  prejudices  are  not  so  strong,  while  the 
Church  is  starting  out  upon  a  new  mission  and  into 
a  new  era  of  its  history."  These  wise  men  foresaw, 
appreciated  the  opportunity,  and  prepared  to  march 
in.  They  knew,  just  what  men  of  brains  have; 
known  for  all  time,  that  a  class  of  men — innocent 
men — humanitarians  by  virtue  of  calling  and  age, 
are  devoted  to  old  land-marks,  and  morbidly  oppose 
any  thing  that  has  the  strange  ring  of  an  innova- 
tion; men  who  would  still  be  using  flint  knives,  but 
steel  has  been  forced  upon  them;  who  glory  not  in 
that  which  is  wise  and  that  which  is  best,  but  in 
that  which  is  old,  simply  because  it  is  old.  The  men 
at  Montgomery  anticipated  the  opposition  of  this 
class,  and  hence  they  selected  this  most  opportune 
time  to  act  —  the  revolutionary  period.  There  they 
stood,  with  one  mind  and  one  heart,  looking  over 
the  land  like  St.  Nicholas  in  the  picture,  purposing 
to  give  to  the  small  and  great  children  of  the 
Church  some  happy  and  needed  reforms.  The  Me- 
morial was  talked  about,  then  talked  over,  then  taken 
to  pieces,  then  criticised  as  to  word  and  idea,  then 
put  together,  until  it  was  at  last  evolved — the  most 
elaborate  Church-paper  ever  produced.  This,  in 


THE    GREEN    MEMORIAL.  217 

brief,  is  the  pre-conference  history  of  the  Green, 
alias  Tennessee  Conference,  Memorial. 

It  would  require  a  whole  pamphlet  to  give  the 
speeches  for  and  against  this  Memorial  in  the  Ten- 
nessee Conference  and  in  the  General  Conference. 
We  will  throw  a  few  items  together  in  as  condensed 
a  form  as  possible. 

We  copy  in  substance  from  the  official  record  of 
the  General  Conference  convened  at  New  Orleans 
in  1866.  Dr.  Green  was  on  the  Committee  on  Books 
and  Periodicals,  Dr.  T.  0.  Summers  was  chairman 
of  the  Committee  on  Revisal,  and  Dr.  (Bishop)  Mc- 
Tyeire  was  chairman  of  the  special  Committee  on 
Lay  Representation.  Among  the  memorials  pre- 
sented was  one  by  Dr.  Green  to  the  Tennessee  An- 
nual Conference,  and  referred  by  that  body  to  the 
General  Conference,  and  a  counter  memorial  from 
the  Columbia  District,  which  were  read  and  referred 
to  the  Committee  on  Changes  of  Economy. 

The  leading  propositions  of  the  Memorial  were: 
Lay  Representation,  the  Extension  of  the  Pastorate, 
a  Bishop  for  each  Conference,  and  the  Church  Con- 
ference. The  proposition  to  elect  a  Bishop  for  each 
Conference  foiled,  and,  in  casting  about  for  some- 
thing to  supply  the  vacancy,  the  District  Conference 
was  suggested.  This  is  an  item  of  Church -history 
that  has  not  before  come  to  light.  The  District 
Conference  was  not  exactly  an  accident,  but  sprang 
into  life  from  the  ashes  of  the  Conference  Bishop. 

The  inauguration  of  the  District  Conference  was 
violently  opposed  by  a  number  of  the  old  preachers, 
who,  remembering  the  very  unsatisfactory  and  de- 
10 


218  Tin:  i;i:i:i:\  MMMOKIAL. 


District  Conferences  held  about  1824,  sup- 
posed that  a  like  body  was  in  contemplation.  This 
was  just  an  honest  mistake,  which  the  present  use- 
ful and  happy  Conference  has  proved. 

It  is  but  justice  to  all  parties  to  state  that  Dr. 
(Bishop)  MeTyeire,  after  mature  deliberation,  op- 
posed the  election  of  Conference  Bishops,  and  that 
Dr.  Green  himself  was  satisfied  that  it  would  not 
have  been  for  the  best. 

The  Memorial  sailed  through  upon  an  uncertain 
and  disturbed  sea.  Even  the  Delegates  from  Dr. 
Green's  own  Conference  (the  Tennessee)  were  di- 
vided on  the  most  important  proposition  —  lay  rep- 
resentation. Of  the  eleven  Delegates  seven  voted 
against  it.  However,  upon  second  thought,  Dr. 
S.  D.  Baldwin  changed  his  vote  from  the  negative  to 
the  affirmative,  making  five  for  and  six  against  lay 
representation  in  the  Tennessee  delegation. 

Dr.  Green's  reforms  were  a  success,  not  through 
any  occult  maneuvering  or  electioneering,  but  by 
virtue  of  their  intrinsic  excellence.  I  never  knew 
Dr.  Green  to  nurse  his  reputation  by  caressing  the 
brethren.  He  did  not  inquire  an  unknown  brother's 
name,  and  storm  him  the  next  moment  with  a  cor- 
dial recognition  and  inquiries  as  to  the  health  of  his 
relatives.  He  took  advantage  of  no  man's  sim- 
plicity to  magnify  himself.  The  growlers  did  not 
follow  him  unless  they  had  "  an  ax  to  grind." 

As  he  did  not  nurse  his  reputation,  therefore  he 
was  bold  to  advance  any  project  for  the  good  of  the 
Church,  unterrified  by  any  opposition  that  an  inno- 
vation miffht  arouse. 


THE    GREEN    MEMORIAL.  219 

Bishop  McTyeire  was  familiar  with  the  Memorial 
in  its  germ,  stalk,  and  flower.  We  copy  from  his 
admirable  funeral-discourse:  "Dr.  Green's  position 
in  favor  of  lay  delegation,  and  subsequently  in  fa- 
vor of  improved  facilities  for  ministerial  education, 
and  the  manner  of  his  advocacy,  were  fair  expres- 
sions of  the  order  of  his  mind.  He  was  not  sensi- 
tive about  consistency  when  material  circumstances 
had  changed.  While  a  Conference  was  little  more 
than  a  meeting  of  preachers  to  return  statistics  and 
receive  appointments,  he  saw  no  use  in  a  lay  element 
there;  but  when  the  Church  had  broadened  and 
complicated  its  operations,  as  a  consequent  of  suc- 
cess, and  had  taken  hold  of  the  press,  and  of  schools 
and  colleges,  and  other  kindred  agencies,  then  he 
accepted  the  developed  necessity,  and  was  for  calling 
lay  counsel  and  cooperation." 

I  submitted  this  paper  to  the  inspection  of  Dr.  T. 
O.  Summers,  knowing  that,  besides  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  history  of  the  Memorial,  his  po- 
sition as  chairman  of  an  important  committee  gave 
him  large  opportunity  to  favor  or  oppose.  He  has 
kindly  furnished  me  with  a  chain  of  memories,  which 
I  subjoin  as  an  illuminator: 

"Dr.  G.reen  had  much  to  do  with  the  emendations 
in  the  Book  of  Discipline.  His  even -balanced 
mind  and  practical  judgment  eminently  fitted  him 
for  the  work  of  a  Church-legislator.  He  had  re- 
spect for  'ancient  things,'  but  no  superstitious  ven- 
eration for  them  '  simply  because  they  were  old.'  He 
was  not  disposed  to  ride  to  mill  with  the  grist  in 
one  end  of  the  bag,  and  stones  in  the  other  to  bal- 


220  THE    GREEN    MEMORIAL. 

auce  it.  When  the  time  came  for  the  casting  away 
of  stones  he  knew  it,  and  cast  the  stones  away.  A 
great  deal  of  irrelevant  matter,  dead-letter  laws,  and 
the  like,  had  accumulated  in  the  Discipline  during 
the  history  of  the  Church,  and  it  was  desirable  to 
have  these  eliminated.  Many  thought  it  sacrilegious 
to  touch  an  item  of  it,  especially  if  it  bore  the  im- 
primatur of  Wesley  or  Asbury.  They  did  not  re- 
flect that  if  these  venerable  fathers  of  the  Church 
were  now  living  they  would  unhesitatingly  cancel 
rules  that  were  out  of  date  and  inoperative.  With 
the  encouragement  of  Dr.  Green,  I  prepared  a  paper 
setting  forth  such  of  these  matters  as  we  considered 
out  of  place  in  the  Discipline,  and  it  was  presented 
to  the  General  Conference  which  met  in  Nashville 
in  1858.  Dr.  Green  was  a  member  of  the  Commit- 
tee on  Revisal,  and  advocated  the  adoption  of  the 
suggestions  made  in  that  paper.  The  new  rule 
which  I  prepared,  with  the  Doctor's  approval,  for 
the  abolition  of  the  probationary  system  was,  how- 
ever, laid  on  the  table.  We  were  surprised  to  find 
among  many  members  of  this  Conference  a  tena- 
cious regard  for  that  inconsistent  and  unscriptural 
policy.  Wesley  never  intended  the  probation  to 
which  persons  were  subjected  in  order  to  member- 
ship in  one  of  his  Societies  to  apply  to  membership 
in  the  Church.  He  knew  very  well  that  in  apos- 
tolic days  any  one  who  would  take  the  threefold 
vow  of  baptism  was  received  at  once  by  that  rite 
into  the  communion  of  the  Church.  Not  a  day's 
delay  is  anywhere  intimated  in  The  Acts  or  Epistles 
of  the  Apo?tles.  Dr.  Green  was  very  decidedly  op- 


THE   GREEN   MEMORIAL.  221 

posed  to  it,  as  he  had  observed  its  mischievous  oper- 
ations all  through  his  life.  But  though  the  rule 
was  not  eliminated  from  the  Discipline  in  1858,  we 
secured  its  removal  in  1866. 

"At  that  Conference  Dr.  Green,  Bishop  McTyeire, 
and  Thomas  O.  Summers,  were  appointed  a  commit- 
tee to  make  a  thorough  revision  of  the  Discipline. 
We  held  many  conferences  for  that  purpose,  and  with 
no  small  labor  prepared  a  thorough  digest  of  the 
work;  had  copies  printed  to  put  into  the  hands  of 
the  members  of  the  next  General  Conference,  which 
met  at  Memphis  in  1870,  and  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  it  adopted  with  scarcely  any  change. 

"  It  fell  to  my  lot  to  prepare  the  Forms  for  Receiv- 
ing Members  into  the  Church,  for  the  Laying  of 
Corner-stones,  and  for  the  Dedication  of  Churches, 
and  to  indicate  suitable  changes  in  the  Burial  and 
Ordination  Services;  but  Dr.  Green  gave  his  views 
on  all  these  subjects,  and  made  numerous  and  judi- 
cious suggestions.  I  remember  that  we  were  em- 
barrassed as  to  the  manner  in  which  we  should 
frame  the  formula  of  the  Reception  and  Recogni- 
tion of  Members.  Dr.  Green  urged  that  there  were 
certain  old  people  in  the  Church  who  would  not  be 
satisfied  unless  the  candidates  expressed  a  desire  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  and  be  saved  from  their 
sins.  But  it  seemed  incongruous  and  superfluous  to 
ask  a  man  if  he  had  that  desire  when  he  had  just 
assumed  the  baptismal  vows;  I  was  not  willing  to 
stultify  myself  by  so  framing  the  formula.  But  on 
coming  together  again  I  suggested  the  form  as  it 
now  stands:  'Dearly  beloved,  you  profess  to  have  a 


222  THE  GHI;I:N  MKMORIAL. 

» 

desire  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  and  to  be 
saved  from  your  sins;  you  seek  the  fellowship  of  the 
people  of  God  to  assist  you  in  working  out  your 
salvation;  I  therefore  demand  of  you,  Do  you  sol- 
emnly, in  the  presence  of  God  and  this  congrega- 
tion, ratify  and  confirm  the  promise  and  vow  of  re- 
pentance, faith,  and  obedience,  contained  in  the  bap- 
tismal covenant?' 

"The  Doctor  was  delighted  with  the  proposed 
form,  and  did  much  to  secure  its  adoption. 

"Dr.  Green  also  did  much  to  secure  the  incorpo- 
ration of  lay  representation  into  our  General  and 
Annual  Conferences;  the  introduction  of  District 
and  Church  Conferences;  the  extension  of  the  pas- 
toral term;  and  other  beneficial  changes  in  the 
economy  of  the  Church.  He  favored  the  multipli- 
cation of  Bishops,  and  other  changes,  but  ceased  to 
press  them  when  he  saw  that  the  Connection  was 
not  prepared  for  them.  He  had  the  sagacity  of  a 
statesman,  the  boldness  of  a  reformer,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  caution  and  prudence  of  a  judicious 
ruler  in  the  Church  of  God." 


4:2. 

HOME,  HUMOR,  AND  BUSINESS. 

.  GREEN  was  himself  at  home — satisfied, 
cheerful,  and  communicative.  From  1831 
to  1857  his  residence  was  in  Nashville, 
where  he  delighted  to  entertain  the  hosts 
that  came.  He  removed  to  White's  Creek,  five 
miles  north  of  the  city,  where  he  opened  a  large 
house  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  his  great  heart  in 
entertaining  the  itinerant, preachers  and  his  numer- 
ous acquaintances  far  and  near,  and  that  he  might 
at  times  gather  his  children  and  grandchildren 
about  him.  He  was  a  host  after  the  old  Southern 
idea: — not  stiff,  and  strained,  and  suspicious  of  im- 
position, but  natural  and  cordial.  He  did  not  annoy 
his  guests  with  such  excessive  attention  as.  to  run 
them  away — was  not "  hospitable  with  a  vengeance." 
He  recognized  the  freedom  of  a  friend  under  his 
own  roof.  He  did  not  cross-question  his  guests  if 
they  failed  to  gorge  themselves  at  his  table;  hence, 
energetic  persons,  who  have  wills,  ways,  and  pur- 
poses, were  anxious  to  come  back.  I  do  not  think 
my  father's  visitors  were  anxious  to  get  home  just 
to  rest. 

He  was  not  a  continuous  conversationist,  but  was 

(223) 


224  HOME,   HUMOR,    AND   BUSINESS. 

silent  at  times;  his  judgment  had  to  do  with  the 
matter  and  the  time  for  conversation.  He  never 
talked  over  people  nor  under  them.  At  home  with 
his  family  he  would  not,  if  he  could  possibly  avoid 
it,  even  refer  to  any  thing  sad  or  disagreeable;  if  he 
did,  it  was  premised  and  concluded  with  suggestions 
of  relief.  He  did  not  save  his  sallies  of  humor  for 
popular  occasions.  Just  any  happy  item  that  he 
gathered  up  on  a  preaching-tour  was  served  up  in 
his  best  style  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  family.  In 
this  connection  we  are  pleased  to  insert  from  the  pen 
of  Mrs.  S.  11.  Johnson,  of  Cornersville,  Tennessee: 

"In  the  social  circle  Dr.  Green  often  drew  largely 
on  the  sleeping  hours,  and  could  hold  the  circle 
spell-bound  just  as  long  as  he  chose  to  do  so. 

"One  winter  night,  after  the  Sabbath  exercises 
had  closed,  and  we  were  cozily  seated  in  our  parlor, 
a  morsel  of  mischief  entered  his  head.  My  husband 
was  a  plain,  matter-of-fact  man,  and  scarce  of  wood 
that  night;  enough  at  the  pile,  but  not  enough  cut. 
We  had  about  enough  lying  in  the  corner  for  the 
morning  fire.  Dr.  Green  discovered  that  Mr.  John- 
son was- try  ing  to  save  that  wood;  but  he  kept  talk- 
ing in  one  of  his  most  jocular  veins,  and  occasionally 
would  say,  'Lay  on  another  one  of  your  sticks, 
Brother  Johnson.'  Mr.  Johnson,  unconscious  of 
what  the  Doctor  was  driving  at,  would  look  as  if 
counting  the  sticks,  and  very  reluctantly  lay  one 
more  stick  on  the  dying  fire.  That  was  fun  for  the 
Doctor;  hence,  he  kept  us  and  some  of  the  visiting 
friends  present  profoundly  interested  until  the  last 
stick  of  Mr.  Johnson's  morning-wood  had  been  cin- 


HOME,   HUMOR,   AND   BUSINESS.  225 

dered,  and  the  old  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  twelve, 
but  Dr.  Green  was  not  yet  sleepy — however,  we  all 
retired.  The  next  morning  he  told  the  joke  with 
a  zest  peculiar  to  himself.  We  all  enjoyed  it,  and 
none  more  than  Mr.  Johnson. 

"Dr.  Green's  table-talk  was  an  intellectual  repast. 
We  could  not  but  grow  wiser  and  better  by  his  visits 
to  our  house,  where  he  frequently  put  up.  I  feel 
honored  in  contributing  to  the  comfort  of  so  great 
and  good  a  man." 

Referring  to  Dr.  Green's  social  character,  the  Rev. 
William  Witcher  writes:  "  Dr.  Green's  success  in  so- 
cial life  was  wonderfully  happy.  He  was  the  charm 
of  the  social  circle.  While  anecdotes  and  witty 
sayings  were  always  on  his  tongue,  I  never  knew 
him  to  compromise  his  gentility  or  Christianity." 

Bishop  McTyeire  had  ample  opportunity  to  meas- 
ure the  social  character  of  Dr.  Green.  He  says: 
"He  had  friends,  and  enjoyed  friendship;  and  here 
was  a  marked  feature  of  his  character  to  one  who 
studied  it.  His  wealth  of  friendship  was  more  than 
a  luxury — he  utilized  it.  He  sought  to  please  men 
for  their  good  unto  edification.  There  was  a  pur- 
pose and  a  method  here.  His  rare  social  qualities 
and  quick  insight  into  character  gave  him  a  power 
of  making  friends  that  had  no  limit  except  oppor- 
tunity. He  made  friends  of  people  that  they  might 
acquaint  themselves  with  his  Master  and  be  his 
friends.  How  often  have  we  seen  him  studying  the 
points  of  approach,  and  conciliating  and  drawing 
near  to  one,  and  establishing  confidence,  that  he 
might  lead  that  person  into  the  Church  and  to  the 
TO* 


226  HOME,    HUMOR,    AND   BUSINESS. 

Saviour!  A  personal  attachment  once  established, 
there  was  force  in  the  entreaty,  '  Come  thou,  and  go 
with  us!'  If  this  purpose  and  method  took  some 
of  the  sentiment  out  of  friendship,  it  put  sanctity 
into  it." 

My  father  was  a  fine  natural  mechanic,  and  de- 
lighted in  making  little  repairs  about  home.  His 
jobs  wTere  as  well  finished  as  the  work  of  any  pro- 
fessional carpenter.  He  held  in  his  own  personal 
right  a  hoe  and  a  pruning-knife,  and  right  energet- 
ically and  understandingly  did  he  ply  them  until 
his  strength  failed  and  disease  banished  him  from 
his  home. 

Dr.  R.  A.  Young,  speaking  of  his  home-life,  says: 
"Dr.  Green  was  exceedingly  fond  of  his  family, 
though  he  rarely  ever  spent  one  whole  week  with 
them.  He  laid  out  thousands  of  dollars  to  build  a 
home,  and  labored  for  years  to  adorn  and  beautify 
it;  but  he  never  neglected  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord. 
As  Dr.  Green  was  not  a  farmer,  what  did  he  want 
with  so  many  acres?  and  as  he  had,  in  his  old  age, 
only  two  in  family,  why  did  he  construct  so  large 
a  house?  His  well-known  purpose  was  that  he 
might  have  all  his  children  and  grandchildren  with 
him  every  summer.  They  were  able  to  scatter  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  but  he  preferred  that  they 
should  flock  to  '  Greenland.'  Dr.  Deems  once  vis- 
ited this  place  and  spent  a  few  days.  As  he  was 
leaving  the  front  gate,  it  is  said  he  looked  back  and 
remarked,  in  his  facetious  way,  'Risky  business 
for  the  old  poet  to  die.  Heaven  must  be  a  wonder- 
fully happy  place  if  it  is  better  than  this.' " 


HOME,    HUMOR,    AND    BUSINESS.  227 

My  father's  beloved  old  friend,  Dr.  Thomas  B. 
Sargent,  writes  to  the  Baltimore  Episcopal  Methodist : 
"  This  letter  is  written  from  the  home  of  Dr.  A.  L. 
P.  Green.  Here  we  have  blue-grass,  corn,  sheep 
(I  came  in  at  the  end  of  the  shearing),  cattle,  and 
other  appurtenances  of  a  Tennessee  farm  of  three 
hundred  acres,  with  a  spacious  brick  house,  in  a 
beautiful  valley,  and  more  than  one  'prophet's 
chamber;'  while  the  children  and  grandchildren 
of  'Parson  Green'  in  summer  fill  the  dwelling,  as 
choice  plants  surround  the  table." 

Dr.  D.  C.  Kelley  was  a  frequent  guest,  and  knew 
all  the  penetralia  of  the  home-life.  He  says:  "In 
the  family,  Dr.  Green  never  seemed  to  govern;  yet 
his  wishes — imparted  in  such  a  way  that  we  who 
were  intimate  in  his  family  knew  not  how — were 
all -con trolling.  Dr.  Hargrove  has  said  that  'his 
life  had  been  a  sunbeam.'  This  was  exquisitely 
true  of  his  home-life.  There  was  nothing  somber; 
no  repression  of  childish  or  youthful  joys;  his  chil- 
dren wanted  no  sinful,  outside  pleasures,  for  all 
healthful  recreations — toys,  games,  music -books, 
conversation — were  found  at  home." 

My  father  was  a  business  man — not  in  the  sense 
of  a  wily  speculator;  he  was  simply  a  level-headed 
man — did  not  originate  or  entertain  any  visionary 
schemes.  While  he  was  a  successful  business  man 
in  accumulating  property,  his  conjectural  wealth,  like 
that  of  all  men  reputed  rich,  was  far  in  excess  of  the 
real.  His  liberality  was  always  greater  than  his 
means,  because  he  gave  not  according  to  what  he 
had,  but  according  to  what  people  thought  he  had. 


228  HOME,   HUMOR,    AND   BUSINESS. 

I  have  known  him  to  promise  or  subscribe  amounts  of 
money  to  charitable  objects  that  his  agent  (Mr.  T.  D. 
Fite)  could  not  cash  twelve  months  after  the  date  of 
the  subscription.  His  kindness  of  heart  led  him  to 
indorse  for  many  personal  friends,  which  resulted 
in  a  vast  debt  that  will  require  more  than  a  decade 
to  pay.  A  few  years  before  his  death,  apprehensive 
that  his  disease  would  prove  fatal,  he  called  his  sons 
and  sons-in-law  together  at  the  old  home  on  Vine 
street.  He  desired  to  give  the  remnant  of  his  days 
to  the  Church,  and,  that  his  mind  and  heart  might 
not  be  diverted,  transferred  the  management  of  his 
property,  reserving  the  right  to  indorse  only  for  the 
Southern  Methodist  Publishing  House,  which  he 
did  till  his  death. 

Bishop  McTyeire,  on  this  head,  says:  "Dr.  Green 
•was  a  rich  man!  This  exceptional  fact  among 
preachers  will  bear  an  allusion.  Few  can  be  trusted 
with  wealth,  though  many  are  willing  for  the  exper- 
iment. A  little  property  draws  them  out  and  draws 
them  oft'  after  more.  The  care  of  it  distracts  the 
mind,  and  the  possession  of  it  divides  the  heart  too 
much.  It  was  not  so  with  Dr.  Green.  You  might 
be  with  him  and  work  with  him  through  a  pro- 
tracted-meeting season,  and  never  find  out  that  he  was 
wealthy.  He  never  talked  money,  or  houses,  or 
lands,  or  bonds.  If  there  were  losses,  no  lamenta- 
tion was  made  over  them.  You  looked  in  vain  for 
any  evidence  of  a  distracted  mind  or  divided  heart 
in  his  devotions  or  his  sermons.  There  was  no  hur- 
rying home  to  business,  no  neglect  of  the  Church's 
work  for  his  own.  His  estate  grew  silently,  and  by 


HOME,    HUMOR,    AND   BUSINESS.  229 

judicious  and  quiet  investment.  I  have  seen  other 
preachers  more  flustered  with  the  management  of 
a  few  hundred  dollars  and  a  few  acres  of  land  than 
this  man  was  by  a  large  estate. 

"  In  one  respect  his  reputed  fortune  was  damag- 
ing to  the  Church.  To  quote  his  own  expression, 
he  'worked  for  nothing,  found  himself,  and  paid 
for  the  privilege.'  These  thirty  years  he  has  not 
received  for  his  ministerial  services  an  annual 
amount  equal  to  that  which  an  honest  day-laborer 
makes  by  breaking  stones  for  the  street.  He  might 
say  to  the  Church  of  Tennessee,  as  Paul  did  to  that 
of  Corinth:  'Forgive  me  this  wrong!'  He  did  not, 
however,  dry  up  the  sources  from  which  he  did  not 
draw.  Though  refusing  'to  be  burdensome'  to  the 
Church,  he  never  waived  the  right  of  other  minis- 
ters to  a  maintenance.  Often  the  small  amount 
paid  to  him  was  turned  over  to  the  circuit- 
preacher  who  was  short  of  his  allowance.  Lack  of 
pay  did  not  cause  slackness  of  labor.  He  acted  as 
though  his  bread  depended  on  his  salary,  and  his 
salary  on  his  work.  He  went  far,  and  was  from 
home  much;  he  started  and  arrived  at  midnight 
hours;  he  waited  on  the  river-bank  for  the  uncer- 
tain steam-boat,  or  took  the  cars  at  the  nearest  sta- 
tion; he  traveled  in  rough  ways,  and  put  up  with 
coarse  fare;  in  heat  and  in  cold  he  traveled,  planned, 
organized,  preached  at  meetings,  and  gave  heed  to 
special  calls  and  appointments.  Nor  was  it  perfunc- 
tory. His  heart  was  in  it,  and  he  threw  his  whole 
strength  into  it;  and  this  he  continued  to  do  until 
a  wasting  disease  quite  prostrated  him.  This  good 


230  HUME,  HUMOR,  AND  BUSINESS. 

comes  of  it  incidentally:  he  cut  off  all  occasion  from 
tlu'iu  wlio  desire  occasion.  There  are  those  who 
helieve,  or  affect  to  believe,  that  preaching  is  pro- 
fessional, and  that  we  seek  not  to  be  supported  that 
we  may  preach,  but  to  preach  that  we  may  be  sup- 
ported. Here  is  one  whose  circumstances  enabled 
him  to  furnish  a  vindication  of  his  brethren." 

It  much  would  please  him 
That  of  his  fortunes  you  would  make  a  staff 
To  lean  upon. 


43. 

DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  WAR. 

|O  say  that  any  sane  man,  living  in  the  State 
of  Tennessee,  with  a  knowledge  of  pass- 
ing events,  was  neutral  during  the  late 
war  between  the  States,  is  to  affirm  an  ab- 
surdity. "We  do  not  mean  neutrality  as  to  overt 
acts,  but  as  to  sympathy.  I  neither  heard  of  nor 
saw  that  neutral  man. 

Dr.  Green  warmly  espoused  the  Southern  cause. 
What  was  the  preponderating  influence — the  per- 
petuation of  slavery,  the  independence  of  the  Con- 
federacy, or  just  the  wish  to  "live  and  die  with  his 
own  people" — we  know  not.  All  we  know  is  that 
he  was  Southern,  very  Southern,  in  his  feelings  and 
in  his  views.  He  delivered  a  number  of  lectures  on 
the  Crisis.  I  did  not  hear  any  of  them,  but  under- 
stood that  there  was  in  them  nothing  inflammatory 
or  abusive;  that  he  administered  advice,  cool,  prac- 
tical, and  honest — just  what  the  people  needed  at 
the  time.  I  am  not  trying  to  excuse  when  I  say 
that  he  delivered  these  lectures  at  the  earnest  solic- 
itation of  his  friends,  and  he  intended  them  for  the 
moral  as  well  as  the  political  good  of  his  hearers. 
At  that  time  (1861)  the  people  were  wild  with  en- 

(231) 


232  DR.    GREEN   AND   THE   WAR. 

thusiasm;  there  was  no  middle  ground;  the  status 
of  every  man  was  fixed.  Notwithstanding  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  the  multitude  were  all  ab- 
sorbed in  the  vital  issues  of  the  day,  Dr.  Green  car- 
ried no  slavery  or  Confederate  independence  into 
the  pulpit.  During  the  brightest  and  darkest  days 
of  the  struggle  his  sermons  were  clear  of  the 
"things  of  Cesar."  He  kept  his  commission  as  a 
minister  of  righteousness  unstained. 

After  the  fall  of  Fort  Donelson,  in  February, 
1862,  which  necessitated  the  evacuation  of  Nash- 
ville by  the  Confederates,  Dr.  Green  and  his  wife  and 
youngest  daughter,  joined  the  great  hegira  of  fugi- 
tives southward — which  flight  no  man  has  ever  de- 
scribed to  this  day.  They  who  were  in  Nashville 
on  that  memorable  Sabbath  (February  16)  will  never 
see  the  like  again. 

At  different  points  in  the  Confederate  lines  Dr. 
Green  remained,  and  hoped,  and  suffered,  until  the 
"  surrender."  The  interest  he  had  manifested  in  the 
Southern  cause,  the  active  part  that  he  had  taken 
in  the  division  of  the  Church  and  the  prosecution 
of  the  Church  suits,  had  made  him  odious  (so  he 
thought)  to  the  extreme  war-men  of  the  North,  and 
would  insure  him,  if  he  remained  in  Nashville,  a 
certain  residence  in  a  Northern  prison.  Such  were 
his  habits  that  a  few  months  of  confinement  would 
have  destroyed  his  life.  While  in  the  Confederacy 
he  was  appointed  a  chaplain,  but  did  not  serve  be- 
cause of  ill  health.  While  with  the  troops  in  West- 
ern Virginia,  to  which  division  of  the  army  his  son 
Frank  belonged,  the  fare  and  exposure  produced  a 


DR.    GREEN   AND   THE   WAR.  233 

fever  and  camp-itch,  from  which,  combined  with 
chilblain  and  tetter,  he  never  recovered.  To  a  man 
who  had  been  so  active  all  his  life,  just  the  tedium 
of  the  war  must  have  been  a  great  sorrow. 

He  writes  to  a  young  lady  friend — Miss  Annie 
Kansom : 

"July  2,  1864.  We  are  now  within  two  miles  of 
Robinson  Springs,  and  about  ten  miles  from  the  city 
(Montgomery,  Alabama),  staying  with  a  gentleman 
by  the  name  of  Jackson,  who  is  quite  a  noble — I  use 
this  term  in  no  offensive  sense.  He  is  not  only  well 
educated  and  intelligent,  but  is  as  liberal  as  a  prince. 
He  is  high-toned  and  honorable,  and  knows  what  to 
do  with  his  wealth.  He  and  his  family  do  all  they 
can  to  make  my  wife  and  daughter  comfortable. 

"I  write  some;  but  paper  is  scarce,  and  I  have  to 
be  sparing  with  the  stock  on  hand.  I  have  been 
fishing  a  few  times,  with  fine  success.  I  spend  my 
time  among  my  books;  the  variety  is  pretty  good." 

I  insert  this  letter,  as  much  as  any  thing  else,  to 
give  a  pen-portrait  of  a  class  of  ante-bellum  South- 
ern gentlemen  who  will  be  scarce  in  the  South  after 
this. 

I  have  also  a  communication  from  Mr.  L.  B.  Fite, 
of  Sumner  county,  Tennessee,  who  was  a  fellow- 
refugee  and  an  intimate  associate  of  my  father  dur- 
ing his  sojourn  in  the  South.  "We  copy  ipsissima 
verba : 

"Dr.  Green  never  indulged  in  harsh  language  or 
bitter  denunciation  of  the  Federals;  indeed,  it  would 
not  have  been  in  keeping  with  his  character.  But 
few  men  were  posted  better  than  he  as  to  who  were 


_  ;i  1)11.    lillKKN    AND    Till:    WAK. 

tin-  main  political  wire-pullers.  Dr.  Green  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  preaching,  and  attracted  the  love 
and  admiration  of  the  people.  A  day  or  two  after 
thf  battle  of  Murfreesboro  we  were  on  a  steam-boat 
bound  to  Gadsden  from  Rome.  Some  distance  be- 
low Rome,  at  a  landing,  was  a  crowd  of  plainly- 
dressed  people,  mostly  women,  waiting  for  news 
from  the  battle  as  to  the  fate  of  their  friends  and 
kindred.  On  board  was  a  small  man  from  the  front, 
who  was  surrounded  at  once  when  he  stepped  on 
the  shore.  Questions  were  rapidly  asked  and  an- 
swered; it  was  a  sad  scene  of  deepest  interest. 
Those  poor  women,  with  sun-bonnets  and  home- 
made dresses — some  looked  in  silent  despair;  others 
screamed  and  sank  to  the  ground.  Dr.  Green  said 
to  me,  with  deep  emotion, '  This  is  the  saddest  scene 
that  I  have  ever  witnessed.'" 

Immediately  after  the  "  surrender "  my  father  re- 
turned, and  quietly  and  peacefully  accepted  the  sit- 
uation. He  expressed  no  foolish  wishes,  grumbled 
out  no  regrets,  had  no  tears  to  shed  over  the  defunct 
Confederacy.  Without  a  word  he  "passed  under 
the  rod." 

Governor  Brownlow,  who  in  former  years  had 
enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  Dr.  Green,  gave  him  a 
letter  of  recommendation  to  the  authorities  at  Wash- 
ington City,  whither  he  went  and  obtained  a  pardon 
from  President  Johnson,  and  the  release  of  his 
property,  which  had  been  held  by  the  Federals  dur- 
ing his  absence.  Thus  endeth  a  short  chapter  of 
his  political  history. 


SOME  OF  THE  BEATITUDES. 

j]R.  GREEN  was  a  peace-man.  He  could  be 
a  man  of  war  when  war  was  necessary; 
but  he  preferred  peace — peace  at  home, 
peace  in  the  Church,  peace  everywhere. 
There  were  chords  in  his  heart  that  grated  harshly 
when  friend  was  arrayed  against  friend.  He  was 
ready  to  promote  peace  anywhere — in  the  Confer- 
ence or  in  the  neighborhood.  About  this  trait  Dr. 
Walker  says:  "The  Holy  Spirit  says,  'Speak  evil 
of  no  man.'  Dr.  Green  was  a  fine  example  in  this 
direction.  If  there  was  any  thing  good  to  be  said 
about  a  person  or  matter,  he  would  be  sure  to  see 
and  say  it.  I  remember  there  were  a  number  of  us 
discussing  the  attentions  of  a  certain  young  man  of 
very  moderate  intellectual  claims  to  a  young  lady 
of  the  highest  social  position,  great  beauty,  grace, 
and  wit,  all  heightened  by  sincere  piety.  One  said, 
'  How  absurd ! '  another, '  How  ridiculous ! '  another, 
'She  is  not  fool  enough  to  listen  to  him!'  So  it 
went  round  the  circle.  All  said  something  border- 
ing on  the  sarcastic  and  severe.  It  seemed  impera- 
tive on  the  Doctor  to  say  something,  which  he  did 
in  his  own  wise  and  charitable  way:  '  Well,  I  think 

(235) 


•J:»l5  SOME   OF   THE   BEATITUDES. 

he  shows  i-xivllriit  taste.'  This  was  the  truth,  and  a 
roinpliinent  to  both  parties.  The  remark  illustrates 
'  \Vheiv  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way' — a  way  to  be 
charitable." 

Here  is  a  pen-portrait,  by  a  good  artist.  Bishop 
Paine  says:  "Dr.  Green  was  no  ordinary  man — such 
as  we  meet  at  every  corner  of  the  streets — by  no 
means.  He  was  rotund,  not  angular;  he  was  sub- 
stantial, not  superficial.  His  physical  corresponded 
with  his  mental;  and  all  his  mental  faculties  were 
so  equably  adjusted  to  each  other  that  all  was  har- 
monious. He  was  fully  six  feet  in  height,  and 
weighed  two  hundred  pounds;  his  head  was  large, 
and  full  of  brains;  his  eyes  were  blue,  and  indica- 
tive of  gentleness  and  thought;  his  features  were 
regular  and  handsome.  If  I  were  to  state  Dr. 
Green's  peculiarities,  I  would  mention  his  sound 
judgment,  self-control,  amiability,  integrity,  unself- 
ishness, and  reticence  about  himself — not  to  speak 
of  his  piety,  zeal,  and  constancy.  The  result  of  all 
these  qualities  was  a  great,  good,  and  useful  man. 
Thank  God  for  the  gift  of  such  a  man  to  the  world 
and  the  Church,  and  for  the  love  and  companion- 
ship of  such  a  man  as  friend  and  brother!" 

Dr.  Green  wrote  favors  upon  the  stone.  We  cite 
in  proof  a  letter  written,  during  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  1866,  to  the  Rev.  Smith  W.  Moore:  "As  it 
is  a  principle  with  me  never  to  forsake  a  friend  or 
forget  a  favor,  I  feel  it  to  be  not  only  my  duty,  but 
also  my  pleasure,  to  make  a  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  kind  attentions  that  I  received  in  your 
goodly  city.  I  had  no  claim  upon  you,  and  there- 


SOME    OF    THE    BEATITUDES.  237 

fore  felt  most  deeply  the  manifestations  of  brotherly 
love  with  which  I  was  greeted.  God  bless  you  and 
yours!" 

We  have  another  ideal  picture  of  a  number  of 
the  beatitudes,  by  one  of  the  masters.  Bishop  Mc- 
Tyeire  says:  "Dr.  Green  was  singularly  free  from 
envy.  Often,  and  freely,  and  confidently,  have  we 
canvassed  men  and  measures,  and  never  did  I  hear 
him  make  a  remark  that  could  be  traced  to  this 
subtle  and  baneful  source.  It  is  a  common  saying 
that  public  men  are  jealous  of  each  other;  and  the 
Christian  ministry  does  not  altogether  escape  the 
charge.  To  allow  grudgingly  the  existence  of 
merit,  which  cannot  be  denied,  in  another,  and  to 
offset  it  with  the  inevitable  but,  is  too  common. 
The  public  will  have  its  favorites,  and  suggests  ri- 
valry where  there  is  only  cooperation,  and  thus  pro- 
vokes the  exhibition  it  condemns.  Envy  is  the  vice 
of  weak  and  ambitious  minds,  and  A.  L.  P.  Green 
was  neither.  One  possessed  of  his  power  and  re- 
sources must  be  conscious  of  them  more  or  less. 
Then  he  took  the  measure  of  other  men  with  entire 
self-possession.  No  greatness  of  reputation  or  of 
title  dazed  him.  His  bearing  was  quiet  and  mod- 
est, but  not  embarrassed  by  any  presence.  He  saw 
where  the  power  lay,  and  where  the  weakness.  To 
him  the  greatest  men  were  not  so  great,  nor  the  best 
so  good,  as  they  seemed  to  others;  neither  were  the 
smallest  so  small,  nor  the  worst  so  bad.  Why  should 
he  be  envious  who  felt  assured  of  his  position,  and 
could  hold  his  own  with  the  foremost?  This  feat- 
ure of  his  character  may  be  thus  traced  to  a  natural 


238  >»MU   OF   THE   BEATITUDES. 

cause;  but  I  will  not  exclude  a  moral  one.  There 
was  work  to  be  done  for  the  Master.  On  that  his 
heart  was  set,  and  he  rejoiced  at  the  skill  or  power 
that  anv  workman  could  bring  to  bear.  He  was 
more  concerned  to  build  up  one's  reputation  than 
to  detract  from  it,  since  thereby  efficiency  was  in- 
creased. He  saw  the  necessity  for  the  various  gifts 
of  the  Spirit,  and  took  the  broad  view — <  Whether 
Paul,  or  Apollos,  or  Cephas,  all  are  yours,  and  ye 
are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's.' " 

We  have  also  an  ideal  picture  from  Dr.  Summers 
on  one  of  the  beatitudes.  Verily,  I  know  no  man 
more  fond  of  peace,  and  a  greater  admirer  of  the 
peace-maker,  than  Dr.  Summers.  He  looks  fierce 
sometimes,  and  calls  you  a  fool;  but  he  means  this 
as  an  expression  of  his  love  and  esteem,  and  only 
his  dearest  friends  are  honored  thus.  He  called  my 
father  a  "fool"  a  thousand  times,  and  he  loved  no 
man  more.  He  speaks  for  himself:  "Dr.  Green  was 
eminently  a  peace-maker;  he  composed  hundreds  of 
differences,  forestalled  difficulties,  precluded  suits  in 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  courts,  and  harmonized  con- 
flicting elements  in  social  life.  We  have  repeatedly 
heard  the  remark  that  'Dr.  Green  never  spoke  un- 
kindly of  any  one.'  He  seemed  disposed  to  say 
something  good  of  everybody  of  whom  it  was  pos- 
sible to  say  any  thing  good  at  all.  This  was  a  beau- 
tiful feature  in  his  character.  His  quiet  and  often 
indirect  manner  of  bringing  men  under  the  influ- 
ence of  religion  was  truly  remarkable." 

Dr.  Bedford  saj's:  "  I  never  knew  any  one  so  des- 
titute of  selfishness  as  Dr.  Green.  The  good  name 


SOME   OF    THE    BEATITUDES.  239 

of  his  brethren  was  as  dear  to  his  heart  as  his  own. 
If  at  any  time  he  deemed  it  proper  to  criticise  the 
actions  of  another,  no  word  of  unkindness  fell  from 
his  lips;  and  so  affable  was  he  that  no  matter  how 
warmly  he  might  urge  a  question,  if  decided  against 
his  views,  instead  of  throwing  any  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  its  success,  he  would  cooperate  with  those 
by  whom  he  had  been  opposed.  He  took  his  posi- 
tions, both  as  to  men  and  measures,  after  the  most 
mature  thought,  and  adhered  to  them  with  the 
greatest  tenacity.  He  followed  no  beaten  path;  he 
lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  his  own,  and  thought  for 
himself,  never  swerving  to  the  right  or  to  the  left." 
Bishop  McTyeire,  in  his  reference  to  the  "but," 
reminds  me  of  a  certain  variety  of  compliments  that 
partake  of  the  offensive,  and  border  on  the  cruel. 
One's  compliments  should  be  done  up  as  neatly  as 
his  linen.  A  shirt  is  not  receivable,  however  im- 
maculate otherwise,  if  there'be  a  black  spot  on  the 
bosom.  A  compliment  is  not  prepared  for  delivery 
until  it  is  clean.  I  prefer  my  flies  without  sugar,  or 
my  sugar  without  flies.  My  father  complimented 
those  who  were  worthy,  and  his  compliments  were 
acceptable  because  they  were  clean.  Salt  is  a  pre- 
server, and  very  necessary  to  the  purity  of  matter; 
but  really  I  do  not  think  I  am  in  such  danger  of 
spoiling  that  even  my  ice-cream  must  be  salted.  A  n 
enthusiast  on  the  subject  of  hygiene  might  think  it 
necessary,  but  a  sensible  confectioner  would  hardly 
place  asafetida  in  a  marriage-cake. 


45. 
DR.  GREEN — PUBLISHING  INTERESTS. 

[HE  Southern  Methodist  Publishing  House, 
located  in  Nashville,  has  intimately  con- 
nected with  its  history  the  name  of  A.  L. 
P.  Green.  Perhaps  more  than  any  other 
man,  he  was  instrumental  in  securing  the  funds  nec- 
essary to  its  inauguration.  He  was  emphatically 
its  tutelar  angel  until  his  death.  As  he  was  never 
afflicted  with  the  sore-head,  or  hobbled  with  any  en- 
vious distemper,  he  could  aftbrd  to  favor,  by  his 
influence  and  personal  attention,  any  connedional  in- 
terest, no  matter  who  was  in  charge.  If  he  had  any 
dislikes,  they  were  subordinated  to  the  general  good, 
and  he  was  never  found  aside  looking  askance  and 
pouting  because  he  was  not  honored  with  some  berth 
of  emolument  and  trust. 

The  Church  suit  being  determined,  the  next  thing 
was  to  decide  upon  the  best  location  south  of  the 
Ohio  River  for  the  great  publishing  interest.  The 
requisites  of  centrality,  accessibility,  and  health, 
were  to  be  combined  in  the  situation.  There  are 
many  who  can  recall  the  discussion  in  the  General 
Conference  of  1854,  in  Columbus,  Georgia,  with 
reference  to  the  location  of  the  Publishing  House. 
(240) 


DR.    GREEN — PUBLISHING    INTERESTS.  241 

Louisville,  Memphis,  St.  Louis,  Atlanta,  Athens 
(Georgia),  Prattville,  and  Nashville,  presented  peti- 
tions. The  claims  of  these  respective  places  were 
represented  by  the  first  talent  of  the  Church:  J. 
Hamilton,  Daniel  Pratt,  C.  B.  Parsons,  G.  W.  D. 
Harris,  John  Hogan,  Trusten  Polk,  J.  E.  Evans,  A. 
L.  P.  Green,  Lovick  Pierce,  E.  Stevenson,  C.  K. 
Marshall,  B.  T.  Crouch,  J.  W.  McFarland,  and  J. 
C.  Keener.  Earnest,  and  labored,  and  wise,  were 
the  towering  speeches,  but  Nashville's  representa- 
tive, A.  L.  P.  Green,  came  oft*  from  the  field  victo- 
rious. The  sixth  ballot  resulted  in  the  choice  of 
Nashville,  Louisville  receiving  fifty-seven  votes  and 
Nashville  sixty. 

My  father,  referring  to  this  discussion,  said  that 
he  was  ver}T  much  quizzed  by  a  facetious  reflection 
of  the  Rev.  William  McMahon  on  the  water  sup- 
ply of  the  Cumberland.  Mr.  McMahon  represented 
Memphis,  and  of  course,  must  disparage  every  other 
place  in  nomination.  In  his  strictures  on  the  river 
privileges  of  Nashville,  he  said  that  he  "  admitted 
the  little  Cumberland  was  navigable,  but  that  it 
could  only  aspire  to  thunder  navigation"  I  will  not 
offend  the  perception  of  the  reader  by  explaining 
what  he  meant. 

During  the  administration  of  every  Agent  of  the 
Methodist  Publishing  House  Dr.  Green  has  been  a 
counselor  in  full  confidence. 

Bishop  McTyeire  says,  "  To  Dr.  Green,  more  than 

to  any  other  man^,  Nashville  owes  the  establishment 

of  the  Southern  Methodist  Publishing  House;  and 

more  than  all  other  men,  since  it  was  established, 

11 


242  DR.    GREEN — PUBLISHING   INTERESTS. 

has  he  lent  it  his  credit  to  promote  its  business.  As 
si  member  of  the  Book  Committee  and  Missionary 
Board,  his  counsel  and  service  were  valuable,  and 
always  cheerfully  and  patiently  given." 

Dr.  Summers,  who  has  been  in  and  around  the 
Publishing  House  since  its  beginning,  says:  "Dr. 
Green  was  one  of  the  leading  projectors  of  tlie  Pub- 
lishing House.  He  used  his  influence  to  bring  it  to 
Nashville.  He  watched  over  its  interests  with 
sleepless  vigilance  and  judicious  care.  As  chair- 
man of  the  Publishing  Committee,  his  counsels  were 
invaluable.  We  looked  to  him  as  a,  tower  of  strength. 
He  kindly  extended  to  us  sympathy  and  aid.  We 
have  frequently  argued  questions  with  him,  and 
then,  convinced  or  not  convinced,  we  have  trusted 
his  superior  judgment  and  followed  his  counsels, 
having  so  much  confidence  in  his  rare  wisdom." 

Dr.  Redford,  the  present  Agent  of  the  Publishing 
House,  says:  "In  1866  I  was  elected  by  the  General 
Conference  to  take  charge  of  the  publishing  inter- 
ests of  the  Church.  Dr.  Green  was  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  the  local  Book  Committee  at  Nashville. 
From  this  period  we  were  thrown  together  almost 
every  day,  and  between  us  the  warmest  friendship 
and  most  intimate  relations  existed.  However 
much  I  had  admired  him  for  his  genius  and  com- 
manding talents  as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  now 
that  I  had  an  opportunity  of  studying  him  closely, 
my  admiration  at  once  ripened  into  reverence  and 
siffection.  In  the  trying  difficulties  and  perplexities 
through  which  I  passed  in  the  incipiency  of  my 
agency,  growing  out  of  the  prostrate  condition  of 


DR.    GREEN PUBLISHING   INTERESTS.  243 

the  Publishing  House,  he  firmly  stood  by  and  sus- 
tained me;  and  to  him  the  Church  in  a  great  meas- 
ure is  indebted  for  any  success  with  which  this 
institution  has  been  favored." 

Speaking  of  my  father  as  a  business  man,  he  pos- 
sessed, to  an  eminent  degree,  the  faculty  of  concen- 
trating or  diverting  his  mind.  While  the  location 
of  the  Publishing  House  was  under  discussion,  he 
sat  by  his  table  and  wrote  me  a  letter.  No  doubt 
he  was  very  much  interested,  but  only  a  few  sen- 
tences are  devoted  to  the  proceedings  of  the  Confer- 
ence. Among  other  non-official  matters,  he  makes 
some  humorous  allusions  to  Brother  Carr  and  the 
ladies,  and  some  good-natured  reflections  on  Dr. 
Wadsworth  and  others. 

Industrious  wisdom  often  does  prevent 
What  lazy  folly  thinks  inevitable. 


46. 

OUR  MOSAIC. 

NATURAL  definition  of  greatness  is,  To 
do  well  and  effectively  any  thing  that  is 
worth  doing  at  all.  The  great  man  is  not 
a  negative  but  a  positive  character — not 
BO  much  a  man  who  knows  as  a  man  who  does.  When 
we  speak  of  great  preachers  the  subject  is  preach- 
ing. My  father  had  a  reputation  for  preaching — 
indeed,  was  one  of  the  great  preachers.  They  are 
the  best  judges  of  preaching  who  have  preached 
themselves.  I  am  not  willing  to  sit  alone  in  judg- 
ment on  this  case,  but  have  conceived  a  mosaic,  which 
shall  be  the  united  testimony  of  his  brethren.  How- 
ever, I  must  reserve  the  right  to  cast  aside  a  piece 
that  has  a  false  color  or  a  false  angle.  Where  can 
we  find  a  purer  or  a  brighter  center-piece  than  the 
estimate  of  his  old  friend,  Bishop  Paine? 

The  Bishop  says:  "An  incident  occurred,  under 
my  administration  as  a  Bishop,  which  unveiled  his 
true  character  as  an  itinerant  preacher.  After  Dr. 
Green  and  several  other  prominent  preachers  had 
been  retained  in  Nashville  and  its  vicinity  for  a 
number  of  years,  by  annual  reappointments,  some, 
from  remote  and  less  popular  fields  of  labor,  began 
(244) 


OUR   MOSAIC.  245 

to  intimate  that  there  was  favoritism  in  it,  and  this 
feeling  increased  until  it  was  likely  to  work  evil 
toward  both  the  supposed  favorite  and  those  making 
the  appointment.  I  heard  the  complaint  so  fre- 
quently that  I  resolved,  when  it  came  my  turn  to 
preside  at  that  Conference,  I  would  remove  all 
ground  for  it.  Accordingly  I  informed  Dr.  Green, 
early  in  the  session,  that,  as  his  term  of  Presiding 
Eldership  had  expired  on  that  District,  and  as  he 
had  been  about  Nashville  several  years,  I  thought  it 
best  to  give  him  a  new  and  more  distant  work;  to 
which  he  promptly  answered,  'Give  me  the  ap- 
pointment you  think  best  for  the  Church,  and  I 
will  try  and  fill  it.  I  may  not  move  my  family,  but 
that  shall  not  prevent  my  going  to  it,  and  doing  the 
best  I  can.'  I  did  as  I  suggested,  and  he  as  he 
promised,  and  he  did  a  most  useful  and  happy  year's 
labor.  Such  complaints  rarely  occur  among  our 
traveling  ministers,  whom  I  have  found  by  long 
experience  to  be  the  most  useful  and  noble  class  of 
men  I  ever  knew.  Such  was  the  general  conviction 
that  Dr.  Green  was  eminently  adapted,  by  his  busi- 
ness qualities  as  well  as  by  his  ministerial  and  social 
influence,  to  be  closely  connected  with  the  most  im- 
portant interests  of  the  general  Church,  that  long 
before  his  decease  no  breath  of  murmur  was  heard. 
It  was  evident  to  all  that  he  was  working  for  the 
Church,  and  not  for  himself.  He  gave  to  the  Church 
every  year  far  more  than  he  received;  for  he  was 
eminently  pure  and  unselfish. 

"  His  voice  was  clear  and  musical,  his  gestures  few 
and  natural.    His  manner  as  a  speaker,  whether  in 


246  OUR   MOSAIC. 

the  pulpit  or  on  the  rostrum,  was  peculiarly  simple, 
beginning  without  a  flourish  of  trumpets.  He  soon 
entered  upon  his  theme,  and,  without  any  apparent 
effort,  attracted  the  attention  of  his  hearers.  His 
great  common  sense  gave  him  an  intuitive  knowl- 
edge of  the  most  direct  and  effective  approaches  to 
the  minds  and  hearts  of  his  fellow-men,  and  enabled 
him  to  wield  great  power  over  them.  It  mattered 
not  how  many  speakers  had  gone  before  him,  no  one 
had  made  his  speech  or  exhausted  his  subject.  He 
always  found  something  new  and  attractive  to  say. 
He  found  diamonds  by  the  beaten  highway,  and  sur- 
prised his  hearers  by  his  magic  illustrations.  His 
manner  of  narrating  facts,  and  his  anecdotes,  never 
failed  to  attract  attention ;  and  while  he  would  almost 
convulse  the  audience,  he  alone  seemed  unmoved. 
He  found  no  difficulty  in  controlling  men,  whether 
assembled  by  thousands  at  the  camp-meetings  on  his 
District  or  on  other  occasions.  His  ministerial  pe- 
culiarities were  naturalness  of  manner,  clearness, 
pathos,  which  made  him  at  once  the  favorite  of 
children  and  of  all  popular  assemblies." 

Bishop  McTyeire,  who  is  au  fait  as  a  sermon- 
critic,  says:  "As  a" preacher  he  had  no  model,  and 
furnished  none.  When  he  took  a  text  he  made  a 
sermon  by  what  he  got  out  of  it,  or  by  what  he 
brought  to  it.  He  entertained,  he  instructed,  he 
impressed,  he  moved,  the  multitudes  who  always  and 
everywhere  flocked  to  hear  him.  A  preacher,  he 
preached.  He  had  faith  in  preaching  the  word,  and 
in  the  word  preached.  A  few  years  ago  the  English 
clergy  showing  great  interest  in  societies,  asylums, 


OUR  MOSAIC.  247 

schemes,  schools,  and  convocations,  the  London 
Times  made  the  critical  and  perhaps  invidious  re- 
mark that  '  our  preachers  seem  to  have  more  confi- 
dence in  every  thing  else  than  in  preaching.'  Not 
so  Dr.  Green ;  he  loved  to  preach.  In  the  pulpit,  on 
the  camp-ground  stand,  on  steam-boats,  in  the  school- 
house,  under  the  shade  of  trees,  he  was  ready  to 
preach.  There  he  made  his  mark;  there  his  great 
work  was  done,  and  there  are  his  reputation  and  re- 
ward. Souls  were  quickened,  converted,  and  saved. 
Mourners  were  comforted,  the  erring  reclaimed,  the 
vacillating  established.  He  lifted  up  the  '  banner  of 
the  cross,'  and  rallied  the  people  to  it,  in  the  wilder- 
ness and  in  the  city  full.  In  subduing  this  country 
to  the  gospel  this  man  has  won  a  just  renown, 
which  few  can  share  with  him." 

Dr.  J.  B.  Walker,  of  the  Louisiana  Conference, 
furnishes  the  following:  "As  a  preacher  Dr.  Green 
was  unique,  and  almost  inimitable.  Young  preach- 
ers are  almost  sure  to  be  unconscious  imitators  of 
the  older  men  whose  style  they  admire.  I  think  Dr. 
Green  had  fewer  imitators  than  any  eminent  and 
popular  preacher  I  ever  knew.  The  reason  of  it 
grew  out  of  the  peculiarity  of  his  style,  which  was 
the  personification  and  embodiment  of  calmness  and 
self-possession.  Now,  these  are  just  the  elements 
most  difficult  for  young  preachers  to  command  and 
exhibit.  The  Doctor  has  told  me  that  in  his  early 
ministry  he  was  rapid  and  vehement — so  much  so 
that  his  vocal  powers  were  in  danger  of  being  ut- 
terly broken  down,  and  he  was  compelled  to  a  com- 
plete revolution  of  his  manner. 


248  OUR   MOSAIC. 

"I  first  saw  and  heard  Dr.  Green  when  he  was 
Presiding  Elder  on  the  Cumberland  District.  His 
new  and  improved  elocutionary  habit  was  then  fully 
established.  He  was  calm  without  being  cold,  de- 
tailed without  being  tedious.  His  manner  was  ani- 
mated, but  deliberate;  his  language  was  clear,  but 
seldom  ornate.  Few  needed  a  dictionary  to  under- 
stand him;  none  ran  ahead.  He  kept  his  thoughts 
and  sympathies  well  in  hand,  and  never  suffered  them 
to  run  away  with  him.  Speakers  sometimes  intel- 
lectually, and  sometimes  emotionall}7,  rise  far  above, 
and  get  away  beyond,  their  hearers.  In  such  cases 
the  audiences  become  mere  spectators,  without  any 
appreciative  sympathy;  they  stare  at  his  intellectual 
soarings  or  emotional  glowings,  but  have  no  'lot  nor 
part'  in  the  matter.  Dr.  Green's  audiences  never 
stood  aloof  from  him  and  his  theme,  but  rose,  glowed, 
and  melted  with  him.  He  rarely  preached  what  are 
technically  called  doctrinal  sermons.  He  seemed  to 
assume  that  the  elementary  and  essential  principles 
of  the  gospel  were  already  known  to  his  audiences; 
that  they  did  not  need  so  much  to  be  instructed  as 
to  be  moved  and  persuaded. 

"  His  knowledge  of  human  nature  was  profound 
and  wide,  and,  we  think,  constituted  one  of  the  chief 
elements  of  his  power  as  a  preacher.  As  a  spiritual 
geologist,  he  explored  human  nature  to  its  last  and 
lowest  stratum.  As  a  spiritual  musician,  he  knew 
well  how  to  touch  the  wondrous  harp  of  man — its 
thousand  chords  responsive  to  his  will.  His  ser- 
mons were  according  to  Blair's  beau  ideal,  'persua- 
sive orations.' 


OUR  MOSAIC.  249 

"  His  next  element  of  power,  considered  as  a  man, 
was  his  wonderful  descriptive  power.  He  painted 
with  artistic  completeness  and  finish.  He  took  time 
to  do  exhaustively  and  well.  He  never  seemed  to 
be  in  a  hurry,  as  though  he  feared  his  audience 
might  become  impatient  of  minute  detail — not  at  all. 
He  saw  all  the  points  of  a  picture,  and  he  clearly 
portrayed  it  all  to  your  mental  eye.  He  would  not 
tell  you  that  he  simply  saw  a  tree;  no,  it  was  a  nut- 
bearing,  a  hickory  tree;  it  was  covered  with  leaves, 
beginning  to  show  the  marks  of  age;  its  nuts  were 
ripening;  on  a  branch  sat  a  squirrel,  with  his  plumy 
tail  aloft,  and  barking  for  joy;  under  the  shadow 
rested  a  flock  of  sheep;  close  by  wandered  a  little 
stream,  into  which  a  traveler  had  just  ridden,  and 
rested  a  moment  until  his  thirsty  horse  had  sipped 
from  the  brook.  He  made  you  see  it  all.  In  his  calm 
and  detailed  procedure  there  seemed  to  be  a  con- 
sciousness of  power,  as  if  he  felt  he  could  hold  his 
audience,  and,  when  he  wished,  bear  them  forward 
along  his  paths  and  to  his  destination.  His  intui- 
tions did  not  deceive  him ;  he  did  hold  and  control 
his  hearers.  While  so  calm  and  so  minute,  he  was 
not  dry,  but  tenderly  pathetic.  His  blue  eyes  often 
filled  and  swam  with  tears  as  the  deep  tide  of  his 
emotion  bore  him  and  his  weeping  hearers  on  its 
ever-deepening  volume. 

"  It  was  a  sight  to  see,  at  some  of  the  great  camp- 
meetings,  where  thousands  were  gathered  to  hear. 
His  noble  person,  his  easy  dignity  of  manner,  his 
clear  enunciation,  from  the  first  commanded  atten- 
tion. As  he  moved  forward  in  his  luminous  march, 
11* 


250  OUR   MOSAIC. 

all  moved  with  him,  the  interest  ever  deepening  and 
widening,  the  people  forgetting  more  and  all  but 
the  glorious  theme.  Every  eye  followed  his  few  and 
simple  gestures;  every  form  bent  forward  anon,  as 
the  preacher  kindled  and  rose  with  his  theme.  The 
people  on  the  outskirts  of  the  mighty  throng  would 
press  closer  up;  one  and  another  would  uncon- 
sciously rise  to  their  feet;  scores  and  hundreds 
would  be  standing,  hundreds  weeping;  sobs  could  be 
heard,  and  suppressed  shouts,  bursting  from  hearts 
too  full  to  contain.  These  were  splendid  triumphs 
of  consecrated  eloquence.  The  unfolding  mysteries 
of  eternity  alone  will  be  able  to  reveal  the  multi- 
tudes he  wooed  and  won  to  Christ,  and  lured  to 
fairer  worlds  on  high." 

Dr.  D.  C.  Kelley,  from  his  childhood  up,  was  ac- 
quainted with  Dr.  Green  and  his  preaching.  He 
says:  "On  one  occasion,  at  a  camp-meeting  in  my 
native  county  of  Wilson,  while  describing  the  escape 
of  the  man-slayer  to  the  city  of  refuge,  pursued  by 
the  avenger  of  blood,  the  audience  had  drawn  in 
from  all  quarters,  and  stood  a  compact  mass,  with  ear 
and  eye  intent  upon  the  speaker.  So  interested  had 
they  become  that  finally,  when  the  last  stage  of  the 
struggle  came,  and  the  speaker,  pausing,  exclaimed, 
as  the  fugitive  arrived  at  the  gate,  with  the  hoarse 
breathing  of  the  pursuer  in  his  ears,  '  Who  will  open 
the  gate?'  an  acquaintance  of  mine  sprang  forward, 
answering,  as  the  tears  streamed  down  his  face,  'I  '11 
open  it!  I'll  open  it!' 

"Again,  at  a  camp-ground  near  Lebanon,  he  had 
preached  in  the  morning;  but  the  pressure  to  hear 


OUR   MOSAIC.  251 

him  was  so  great  that  he  was  forced  to  preach  again 
at  night.  In  his  peroration  he  had  been  describing 
heaven,  as  he  loved  so  much  to  do,  and  as  the  peo- 
ple loved  so  much  to  hear.  After  the  description, 
which,  to  our  inartistic  eye,  seemed  as  complete  as 
human  limner  could  make  it,  he  turned  to  the  theme 
of  the  angelic  inhabitants  and  their  after-commun- 
ion with  the  blood-washed  saints.  Intense  silence 
had  sat  on  the  audience  for  some  minutes;  the  great 
painter  threw  another  heart-touch  on  the  canvas, 
moving  to  the  work  with  delicate  calmness,  but  with 
such  power  that  a  single  female  voice  unconsciously 
and  softly  uttered  the  word  'glory.'  The  spell  was 
broken,  and  from  lip  to  lip  the  echo  rang,  until  the 
whole  congregation,  from  altar  to  outskirts,  swelled 
in  shout  after  shout.  Generally  he  produced  silent 
weeping,  and  quietly  fastened  on  the  memory  great 
truths  and  heart-pictures  in  colors  indelible.  His 
sermons  are  remembered  everywhere.  The  children 
listened  to  him  with  joy." 

Dr.  J.  B.  McFerrin  furnishes  our  mosaic  the  fol- 
lowing: "Dr.  Green  as  a  preacher  was  unique,  and 
was  formed  after  no  model.  He  never  studied,  in 
his  younger  days,  the  rules  of  pulpit  oratory,  and 
yet  he  was  not  devoid  of  the  artistic,  nor  did  he  ig- 
nore the  power  of  art.  In  his  artistic  skill  he  had 
the  power  of  making  every  thing  appear  natural. 
He  was  ambitious — that  is,  he  courted  earnestly  the 
best  gifts.  He  always  desired  to  excel  as  a  preacher ; 
to  preach  well  was  the  highest  object  of  his  life. 
No  accomplishment,  no  attainment,  no  reputation, 
was  equal,  in  his  estimation,  to  the  character  of  an 


252  OUR   MOSAIC. 

able  preacher  of  the  gospel.  He  was  wise  in  coun- 
sel and  prudent  in  demeanor;  but  his  great  forte  was 
in  the  pulpit.  lie  looked  for  immediate  fruit;  all 
his  pulpit  efforts  were  aimed  at  immediate  results. 
He  seldom  preached  on  doctrinal  questions  or  con- 
troverted subjects.  He  aimed  at  the  heart,  and  that 
often  through  the  imagination.  He  moved  his  au- 
diences, and  when  he  failed  in  that  he  regarded  his 
sermon  as  worth  but  little." 

Dr.  J.  W.  Hanner,  who  has  stood  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  my  father  through  many  a  revival- 
season,  says:  "Dr.  Green  seemed  to  me  a  great 
preacher;  but  his  sermons  were  not  perfect.  A 
faultless  sermon  in  the  pulpit  is  an  abomination, 
standing  where  it  ought  not.  So  eloquent  and  quiet 
was  he  that  one  knew  not  that  the  preacher  was  elo- 
quent till  he  felt  a  tear  on  his  cheek,  and  looked  out 
on  a  weeping  crowd.  A  great  Bishop  preached  to 
the  same  congregation ;  it  was  a  very  proper  ser- 
mon. Many  handkerchiefs  were  moistened,  but  not 
by  tears ;  it  was  a  warm  day  in  August. 

"  Ilis  general  habit  of  description  was  by  detail, 
having  in  it  more  fancy  than  imagination.  Fancy 
deals  with  externals;  imagination  cuts  right  into 
the  heart  of  things.  Now  and  then  his  descriptions 
wearied  some  people;  but  they  made  an  impression, 
and  left  their  image  on  the  mind.  Sometimes  his 
imagination-  rose  above  fancy,  and  struck  out  in 
words,  few,  sharp,  terse,  and  curt. 

"At  a  camp-meeting  he  described  a  conflict  be- 
tween a  strong,  square-built  Dutch  merchantman 
and  a  pirate-ship.  The  brig  was  becalmed  and  be- 


OUR   MOSAIC.  253 

fogged.  When  the  fog  lifted  there  was  seen  in  the 
distance  a  black  line  lying  on  the  sea,  like  a  snake. 
A  stiff  breeze  has  sprung  up,  and  the  chase  begun. 
A  shot  came  skipping  across  just  before  the  brig. 
The  captain  put  every  man  at  his  post.  All  ready; 
ten  knots  an  hour;  the  pirate  bore  down  quartering. 
When  near  enough,  our  captain  cried,  '  Square  the 
yards ! '  When  he  looked  back  he  saw  nothing  but 
floating  barrels.  Now,  your  small  critic  would  make 
the  captain  say,  'Square  away  there!'  Who  cares? 
The  order  drove  the  merchantman  plumb  through 
the  pirate. 

"At  Gallatin,  Tennessee,  he  delivered  a  funeral- 
discourse  on  the  Rev.  T.  L.  Douglass,  in  which  he 
stated  that  'if  the  earth  went  round  the  sun  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  nature  it  would  describe  an  olypse, 
but  as  God  carried  it  round  it  made  a  perfect  circle.' 
When  taken  to  task  about  this  blunder  astronomical, 
he  wanted  to  know  'what  was  the  matter.'  In  the 
first  place,  I  stated,  there  is  no  such  word  as  olypse; 
next,  the  learned  tell  us  that  the  earth's  orbit  is  not 
a  perfect  circle.  '  Well,'  said  he,  '  when  we  preach 
philosophy  and  astronomy,  we  speak  to  a  few  men 
who  know  more  about  such  things  than  we  do;  let 
us  preach  the  gospel.' 

"  One  has  heard  sermons — scientific  sermons,  very 
proper  sermons — by  bookish  men,  who  could  fix  to  a 
dot  the  foci  of  parabolical  curves,  that  were  worth 
about  fifteen  cents  per  cart-load.  There  is  more 
food  for  a  hungry  man  in  a  hearty,  human,  blun- 
dering sermon  than  in  the  exceedingly  proper, 
ivory -headed,  Sunday  essays,  which  make  the 


254  OUR   MOSAIC. 

hearer  inwardly  sigh,  'Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this 
be  joy?'" 

The  Rev.  William  Witcher,  a  member  of  the  Ten- 
nessee Conference,  and  a  young  man  comparatively, 
assists  in  composing  the  mosaic.  He  says:  "Dr. 
Green's  opinion  was  sought,  from  the  Sunday-school 
class  to  the  Bishop's  cabinet.  It  became  common 
about  the  Southern  Methodist  Publishing  House 
and  in  the  Annual  Conference  to  quote  him  as  au- 
thority. I  have  heard  Dr.  Green  preach,  when  he 
reminded  me  of  Samson  taking  hold  of  the  pillars 
of  the  temple,  that  he  might  move  the  house  and  all 
who  were  in  and  on  it.  His  sermons  were  as  long 
as  they  were  powerful  and  profound,  and  yet  the 
uneducated  could  understand  all  he  said.  He  might 
be  called  'the  dramatic  preacher  of  the  South.'  He 
made  no  attempt  at  profound  scholarship,  and  yet 
one  or  two  strokes  of  his  imagination  would  ex- 
haust all  the  adverse  criticism  in  the  house.'* 


47. 
DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  SCHOOLS. 

JR.  GREEN",  while  not  a  school-man,  was 
very  much  in  favor  of  schools.  While 
he  never  expressed  a  regret  that  he  was 
not  classically  educated,  he  never  decried 
the  education  of  others.  Just  any  thing  that  was 
worth  learning,  he  was  anxious  that  everybody 
should  learn.  Upon  no  occasion  in  all  his  life  did 
he  let  slip  a  boast  that  he  was  a  self-made  man.  His 
opinion  was  that,  as  a  general  rule,  self-made  men 
might  have  been  made  much  better.  He  never 
courted  the  applause  of  the  vulgar  by  slip-shod  flings 
at  learning;  hence,  he  was  immensely  popular  with 
men  of  letters.  His  strong,  practical  views  fur- 
nished the  school-man  a  substantial  fabric  for  his 
dreams. 

Next  to  the  preaching  of  the  word,  came  the  ed- 
ucation of  the  young — both  male  and  female.  La 
Grange  and  Florence  Universities  were  literary  chil- 
dren for  whom  he  talked  and  prayed,  and  for  whom 
he  always  had  a  word  of  encouragement.  In  1849 
he  was  chosen  by  the  young  men  of  the  Dialectical 
and  La  Fayettc  Societies  of  La  Grange  College  to 
deliver  an  address,  which  was  published  by  their 

(255) 


256  DR.   GREEN   AND   THE   SCHOOLS. 

request.  The  female  institutions  under  the  auspices 
of  the  Church  found  him  a  willing  and  sympathetic 
counselor. 

In  1872  the  Central  University  had  become  a 
living  idea,  with  its  Board  of  Trust  and  Charter. 
How  long  it  had  been  upon  the  stocks,  from  the 
first  conception  until  it  became  a  fully-developed 
project,  we  know  not.  We  do  know  that  Dr.  Green 
had  been  thinking  and  talking  for  years  upon  this 
consummation;  we  know  that  the  plan  was  not 
in  favor  from  every  side;  we  know  that  Dr.  Green 
and  other  strong  men  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
and  went  towering  their  tremendous  plan  through 
the  Conferences.  Have  we  said  too  much?  Let  us 
hear  from  Bishop  McTyeire.  He  says: 

"Though  Dr.  Green  owed  nothing  to  colleges,  he 
came  in  time  to  make  them,  and  they  owed  much  to 
him.  La  Grange,  the  first  in  the  Church,  was  initi- 
ated the  same  year  he  was  ordained  elder;  and  to 
his  forecast,  and  zeal,  and  eloquent  pleading,  we 
owe,  more  than  to  any  other  man,  the  consent  and 
combination  of  influences  pledged  to  the  larger 
scheme  now  rising  in  the  western  suburbs  of  Nash- 
ville. He  might  have  hesitated  to  urge  on  others 
the  value  of  an  education  which  he  himself  had  not 
obtained;  he  might  have  pleaded  his  own  case  in 
proof  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  success,  but  he 
was  too  wise  to  make  a  rule  of  exceptional  cases. 
He  had  understanding  of  the  times  to  know  what 
Israel  ought  to  do.  I  never  knew  him,  in  such 
matters,  to  be  feeling  about  for  the  strong  or  the 
popular  side." 


DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  SCHOOLS.         257 

Dr.  T.  0.  Summers  (the  Vice-chancellor  and  Dean 
of  the  Yanderbilt  Faculty)  says:  "Though  Dr. 
Green  did  not  enjoy  in  his  youth  the  advantages  of 
a  liberal  education,  he  prized  those  advantages  very 
highly;  made  up,  as  far  as  circumstances  would 
allow,  for  their  lack  by  strenuous  efforts  in  after 
life;  and  did  a  great  deal  to  secure  such  advantages 
to  the  rising  ministry.  He  was  one  of  the  project- 
ors of  the  Central  (now  Yanderbilt)  University,  the 
treasurer  of  its  funds,  and  looked  forward  with  the 
liveliest  interest  to  the  development  of  that  institu- 
tion, pn  which  he  had  bestowed  so  much  thought 
and  labor.  He  wanted  to  see  —  and  we  trust  he 
will  see  from  the  ramparts  of  the  other  world — 
hundreds  of  the  sons  of  the  prophets  flocking  to  its 
halls,  and  going  forth  from  them  divinely  qualified 
for  the  work  of  the  ministry." 

The  last  work  my  father  did  was  for  the  Yander- 
bilt. He  traveled  in  the  interest  of  the  institution 
when  he  should  have  been  at  home  in  his  room 
under  the  care  of  a  nurse  and  a  physician.  Those 
who  understand  the  nature  of  his  disease  compre- 
hend when  I  say  that  he  shed  his  blood  for  the 
Yanderbilt,  and  suffered  as  he  went. 

Dr.  Young  (Secretary  of  the  Yanderbilt  Univer- 
sity) says:  "Dr.  Green  and  I  had  our  desks  in  the 
same  office.  One  morning  in  June,  1874,  he  seemed 
more  feeble  than  usual.  I  handed  him  some  money. 
He  took  it  to  the  bank  and  left  it  on  deposit,  came 
back,  handed  me  the  book  and  the  key  to  his  drawer, 
saying,  'Here,  Young,  I  have  quit?  That  was  the 
last  interview  but  one." 


258  DR.    GREEN   AND   THE    SCHOOLS. 

I  have  a  number  of  letters  written  to  his  young 
lady  correspondent,  Miss  Annie  Ransom,  which  re- 
flect his  deep  interest  in  the  Central  and  Vanderbilt. 
He  writes  in  1871 :  "  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  my  quar- 
terly-meeting at  Cnlleoka  will  have  to  be  postponed. 
I  am  compelled  to  attend  the  North  Mississippi 
Conference,  which  will  meet  next  Wednesday,  at 
Columbus.  I  have  just  returned  from  the  Memphis 
Conference.  I  go  in  the  interest  of  the  great  Con- 
nectional  University  which  we  are  trying  to  estab- 
lish; and  it  is  thought  there  will  be  difficulties  in 
the  way,  and  the  old  men  of  the  Church  think  I 
must  go." 

He  writes  from  Hot  Springs,  April  4,  1874:  "I 
expect  to  leave  here  April  23.  for  home.  I  want  to 
be  present  at  the  corner-stone  laying  and  the  meeting 
of  the  Board  of  Trust,  and  then  on  to  Louisville, 
to  the  General  Conference.  My  health  has  im- 
proved somewhat.  My  feet  li&ve  greatly  improved. 
I  rest  better  at  night  than  I  did  some  time  ago,  and 
my  spirits  are  better,  which  is  no  small  matter  with 
me.  I  will  not  be  able  to  return  before  the  meeting 
of  the  Board  of  Trust,  and  by  that  time  I  fear  that 
I  shall  have  lost  all  that  I  gained." 

While  at  Hurricane  Springs  he  becomes  quite  a 
diplomate  in  the  interest  of  tine  great  connedional  en- 
terprise. He  writes  to  Dr.  McFerrin,  August  6, 1872 : 
"I  am  now  at  these  springs,  trying  the  effect  of  the 
water  on  my  tetter.  What  will  be  the  result  I  do 
not  know.  In  other  respects  my  health  is  good. 

"  I  have  been  anxious  for  some  time  to  have  a  full 
conversation  with  you  on  the  subject  of  the  contcm- 


DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  SCHOOLS.         259 

plated  Central  University.  I  should  like  to  see  you, 
but  I  may  not  have  the  chance,  as  the  Conferences 
will  be  calling  you  off. 

"I  shall  take  it  for  granted  that  the  institution, 
as  understood  by  the  Bishops  and  Board  of  Trus- 
tees, meets  your  approbation,  and,  consequently,  I 
will  not  allow  that  now  to  be  an  open  question. 
The  main  point  to,  which  I  wish  to  direct  your  at- 
tention is  this :  The  subject  will  again  be  submitted 
to  the  Annual  Conferences,  and  the  Tennessee  will 
be  the  first  to  take  action  on  the  subject.  If  it 
should  go  smoothly  through  our  Conference,  I  think 
there  will  be  no  trouble  in  the  other  Conferences. 
My  object  in  this  note  is  to  get  you  to  conduct  the 
matter  before  the  Tennessee  Conference.  I  am  so 
fully  committed  that  it  might  be  supposed  I  was  in 
favor  of  an  independent  theological  institute,  and 
might  not  be  able  to  unite  all  the  members  of  the 
Conference  in  favor  of  the  University.  It  is  known 
that  you  have  not  favored  a  theological  institute. 
per  se,  and  were  you  to  go  forward  and  conduct  the 
subject  through  the  Tennessee  Conference,  it  would 
have  the  effect  of  uniting  all  the  parts.  I  have  no 
interest  to  serve,  as  you  know.  I  am  now  growing 
old,  and  must  soon  pass  away;  but  I  feel  a  strong 
desire  to  see  the  institution  established.  We  have 
no  endowment  anywhere  in  the  Church,  South, 
that  can  be  made  available  in  giving  aid  to.  young 
preachers,  and  you  know  how  our  colleges  are  now 
crowded  with  dead-heads,  and  that  something  must 
be  done. 

"Should  the  endowment  fund  be  obtained  (and  I 


260  DR.    GREEN   AND   THE   SCHOOLS. 

think  it  can),  the  Bishops  will  locate  the  institution 
in  Nashville;  but  I  am  for  the  institution,  locate  it 
where  they  may.  Now,  I  want  you  to  take  charge 
of  the  question  before  the  Tennessee  Conference, 
and  let  me  be  seen  only  as  a  voter,  and  the  brethren 
who  may  have  had  some  doubts  in  their  minds  will, 
I  think,  be  fully  satisfied!  Take  charge  of  this  sub- 
ject; you  can  reconcile  all  discordant  elements;  and 
let  us  put  this  great  charity  through.  I  think  we 
shall  have  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  as  a  bonus — that  is,  that  amount  is  offered 
without  any  agent  being  put  into  the  field." 

He  writes  from  Louisville,  May  7, 1874:  "I  can- 
not write  this  morning,  my  nerves  are  so  unsteady. 
I  cannot  think  of  any  thing  new  that  would  interest 
you.  I  recollect  that  Commodore  Vanderbilt  has  given 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  more,  which  makes  six 
hundred  thousand  that  he  has  given.  So  we  are 
moving  on  with  the  University.  The  Medical 
School  of  Nashville  University  has  come  over,  and 
we  have  accepted  it  as  our  school;  and  we  have  or- 
ganized the  Law  School." 

So,  through  sickness  and  feebleness  extreme,  when 
other  men  would  have  lost  interest,  when  he  knew 
that  his  feet  were  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  when 
he  felt  like  one  "  laid  upon  the  shelf,"  he  tenaciously 
clung  to  the  Vanderbilt,  for  it  was  the  fruition  of 
a  hope  that  he  had  cherished  for  years. 

Upon  my  first  meeting  with  Dr.  L.  C.  Garland 
(Chancellor  of  the  Vanderbilt  University),  he  re- 
marked: "One  of  the  principal  inducements  that 
brought  me  here  was  that  I  might  enjoy  the  society 


DR.   GREEN  AND  THE   SCHOOLS.  261 

of  your  father."      The  association  was  but  a  few 
days,  but  it  may  be  renewed  in 

That  sun-bright  clime, 

Undimmed  by  sorrow  and  unhurt  by  time, 
Where  age  hath  no  power  o'er  the  fadeless  frame, 
Where  the  eye  is  fire,  and  the  heart  is  flame. 

The  able  and  venerable  Chancellor  has  generously 
thrown  in  his  contribution  of  memories,  which  we 
draw  out  as  pure  gold  from  the  furnace: 

"  I  met  with  Dr.  Green  only  on  a  few  public  oc- 
casions, but  these  were  sufficient  to  impress  me  with 
a  sense  of  his  unusually  high  order  of  talents.  The 
first  of  the  occasions  was  the  commencement  of  the 
Memphis  Conference  Female  Institute,  at  Jackson, 
in  1869.  Your  father  had  accepted  an  invitation  to 
preach  the  commencement-sermon  on  Sunday,  and 
to  deliver  an  address  before  the  Institute  on  Monday, 
I  to  deliver  an  address  to  the  graduating-class  on 
Wednesday.  During  the  four  days  of  our  presence 
we  occupied  the  same  room  and  ate  at  the  same 
board.  I  soon  discovered  the  uncommon  colloquial 
powers  of  Dr.  Green,  and  his  kind  and  gentle  dispo- 
sition. He  was  the  life  of  every  circle  into  which 
he  entered.  His  fund  of  anecdote  and  of  apt  illus- 
tration was  inexhaustible,  and  his  powers  of  narra- 
tion unsurpassed.  His  attraction  for  children  was 
magnetic.  The  younger  pupils  of  the  Institute 
were  ever  hanging  about  him,  and  playing  with  him 
as  if  he  were  a  pet.  He  entered  sweetly  into  all 
their  innocent  humors  and  whims. 

"A  little  incident  that  occurred  seemed  to  draw  me 
more  closely  to  him  in  friendly  sympathy  than  could 


262        DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  SCHOOLS. 

have  been  expected  from  a  first  intercourse  of  so 
short  duration.  The  theme  of  the  Doctor's  address 
on  Monday  was,  '  The  proper  sphere  of  woman.' 
Some  of  the  sentiments  he  advanced  were  unpop- 
ular with  a  lady  of  Memphis  who  had  been  selected 
as  essayist  before  the  Society  of  Alumnce.  This 
essay  was  read  on  Tuesday,  and  the  writer  had 
added  to  it  quite  a  severe  animadversion  upon  the 
positions  taken  by  Dr.  Green.  The  Doctor  was  a 
man  of  too  much  politeness  and  gallantry  to  take 
up  the  gauntlet  thrown  down  by  a  lady,  yet  it  was 
evident  that  he  was  annoyed  by  the  asperity  of  the 
assault.  My  address,  which  followed  on  the  next 
day,  had  for  its  theme,  '  Woman  and  her  proper  cult- 
ure,' and  the  Doctor  was  extremely  gratified  to  find 
in  it  a  full  vindication  of  every  position  of  his  which 
had  been  assailed.  So  precisely  did  my  line  of  re- 
mark traverse  that  of  the  essayist's  that  it  was  hard 
to  convince  one  that  it  had  not  been  pursued  with 
special  reference  to  hers. 

"I  again  met  with  Dr.  Green  at  the  General  Con- 
ference of  1870,  held  at  Memphis,  of  which  we  were 
both  members.  He  was  then  in  his  proper  sphere, 
and  no  one  exerted  a  greater  influence  upon  the  de- 
liberations of  the  Conference  than  he.  I  was  asso- 
ciated with  him  on  two  very  important  committees, 
and  to  him  were  due,  in  a  great  measure,  the  satis- 
factory conclusions  to  which  they  arrived.  He  was 
very  clear  in  his  cognitions,  and  precise  in  his  state- 
ments. His  argumentation  in  debate  was  logical, 
and  his  bearing  toward  his  antagonists  perfectly 
respectful. 


DR.    GREEN   AND   THE   SCHOOLS.  263 

"But  to  me  the  most  interesting  association  I  had 
with  Dr.  Green  was  in  the  inception  and  establish- 
ment of  the  Vanderbilt  University.  It  was  remark- 
able that  so  deep  an  interest  was  taken  in  an  insti- 
tution of  high  grade  by  one  who  had*  not  in  early 
life  enjoyed  the  advantages  of  scholastic  training. 
On  one  occasion,  in  a  public  address  to  the  North 
Mississippi  Conference,  he  feelingly  alluded  to  the 
difficulties  and  embarrassments  with  which  he  had  to 
contend  in  his  early  ministry,  growing  out  of  a  want 
of  mental  culture,  and  expressed  his  determination 
to  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  in  a  struggle  to  procure 
for  the  young  ministers  of  the  Church  the  advan- 
tages of  which  he  had  so  sorely  felt  the  need. 

"I  went  to  the  first  convention  held  in  relation 
to  the  establishment  of  a  university,  as  a  delegate 
from  the  North  Mississippi  Conference,  with  no  ex- 
pectation of  being  able  to  carry  forward  the  enter- 
prise in  the  depressed  condition  of  the  country;  and 
when,  at  the  opening  of  the  convention,  an  inter- 
change of  opinion  was  generally  had,  it  was  obvi- 
ous that  a  great  majority  of  the  members  shared  in 
this  despondency. 

"But  Dr.  Green  took  a  more  hopeful  view  of  the 
matter,  and  expressed  very  decidedly  his  opinion  in 
favor  of  the  practicability  of  the  scheme,  and  of 
setting  about  the  execution  of  it  at  once.  He 
thought  the  money  could  be  raised;  and  this  opin- 
ion, held  by  so  experienced  and  successful  a  finan- 
cier, and  by  one  so  extensively  and  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  people,  inspired  the  whole 
body  with  confidence,  and  resulted  in  the  adoption 


264        DR.  GREEN  AND  THE  SCHOOLS. 

of  resolutions  to  go  forward  with  the  work.  The 
whole  effort  to  raise  funds  was  devolved  upon  Dr. 
Green  us  treasurer,  together  with  his  chosen  assist- 
ants. In  this  work  he  was  ardently  engaged  when, 
in  the  providence  of  God,  Mr.  Yanderbilt  became 
the  patron  and  founder  of  the  University,  and 
placed  its  operations  upon  a  safe  pecuniary  basis. 
No  one  rejoiced  at  this  event  more  heartily  than  Dr. 
Green ;  and  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  did  not  live 
to  see  the  University  started  upon  its  career  of  use- 
fulness. Certain  it  is  that  he  mainly  kept  the 
enterprise  alive  until  it  was  taken  up  by  Mr.  Yan- 
derbilt. So  that  the  Church  and  the  country  owe 
to  the  former  a  debt  of  gratitude  second  only  to 
that  due  to  the  latter." 


48. 
LAST  CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS. 

|R.  GREEN"  attended  his  last  General  Con- 
ference held  in  Louisville,  Kentucky,  May, 
1874.  This  was  his  tenth  General  Con- 
ference— three  of  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church,  and  seven  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South.  The  quadrennial  of  1862  was  not 
held,  on  account  of  the  war.  On  his  return  from 
the  Hot  Springs,  just  a  few  weeks  before  the  open- 
ing of  the  Conference,  he  was  evidently  better,  and 
so  expressed  himself.  I  believe  that  death  nearly 
always  allows  a  partial  armistice  before  the  requisi- 
tion is  fully  served.  The  clouds  for  the  time  break; 
the  sun  comes  out,  and  the  birds  sing  their  sweetest 
songs;  the  victim  looks  up  and  takes  hope,  but  it  is 
only  a  few  olive-branches  scattered  in  the  way — the 
setting  sun  of  human  life,  donning  his  robes  of  pur- 
ple hues  and  crimson -and -gold.  My  father  felt 
better — even  felt  able  to  go  by  himself  to  the  Con- 
ference, that  my  mother  might  have  an  interval  of 
rest  and  recuperation  before  their  return  to  the  Hot 
Springs.  He  thought  it  not  at  all  necessary  that 
any  member  of  his  family  should  accompany  him — 
rejoiced  to  think  that  he  was  able  to  take  care  of 
12  (265) 


266  LAST   CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS. 

himself.  He  was  deceived :  his  health  rapidly  failed. 
He  attended,  but  with  great  pain,  the  sessions  of 
the  Conference,  until  he  could  go  no  more.  He 
was  entertained  by  a  true  and  noble  friend,  Mr. 
Kean,  of  the  Louisville  Hotel,  who  has  since  sat 
down  with  his  glorified  guest  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  There  were  ready  hands  and  willing  hearts 
that  loved  him,  and  he  wanted  nothing  that  this 
world  could  furnish.  His  afflictions  did  not  destroy 
his  interest  in  the  Church,  as  his  speeches  on  music 
-and  Sunday-schools  testify.  We  will  leave  to  Dr. 
Redford,  who,  with  Mrs.  Bedford,  so  tenderly 
watched  over  him,  to  relate  the  story  of  his  suffer- 
ings. The  Doctor  says:  "I  had  the  pleasure  of 
being  with  him  the  most  of  the  time  during  the 
General  Conference  immediately  preceding  his 
death.  We  were  quartered  together  at  the  Louis- 
ville Hotel,  and  our  rooms  were  on  the  same  floor, 
and  close  to  each  other.  We  also  occupied  in  the 
Conference-room  the  same  table,  and  conferred  freely 
on  all  questions  before  the  body. 

"He  was  confined  to  his  room  the  greater  portion 
of  the  time,  exceedingly  feeble,  and  a  great  sufferer. 
I  was  with  him  constantly,  and  contributed  to  his 
relief  by  every  means  within  my  power.  His  last 
appearance  in  the  General  Conference  was  on  Mon- 
day, May  the  18th.  He  had  been  appointed  to 
preach  on  the  Sabbath  at  Chestnut  Street  (Meth- 
odist) Church,  but  was  not  able  to  leave  his  room. 
Mrs.  Redford  watched  by  his  bedside  all  day.  His 
suffering  was  so  severe  that  he  felt  apprehensive  of 
lock-jaw.  I  was  with  him  until  midnight,  and  on 


LAST  CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS.       207 

Monday  morning  reported  him  to  the  Conference 
as  very  ill.  A  few  minutes  after  I  announced  his 
illness  he  entered  the  Conference.  His  countenance 
bore  the  marks  of  great  pain. 

"The  question  before  the  Conference  was  as  to 
whether  or  not  the  Episcopacy  should  be  strength- 
ened by  the  election  of  one  or  more  Bishops.  Dr. 
Green,  in  an  able  speech,  advocated  the  election  of 
one  Bishop.  This  was  his  last  speech,  and  although 
the  Conference  did  not  concur  with  him,  he  was 
listened  to  with  breathless  silence.  At  the  close  of 
this  speech  he  left  the  room.  A  few  minutes  later 
I  followed  him  to  the  hotel,  and  found  him  in  his 
room,  very  ill.  Painful  as  was  the  duty,  I  commu- 
nicated by  telegram  the  fact  of  his  illness  to  his 
family,  and  informed  him  of  what  I  had  done.  His 
reply  was,  'I  am  glad  you  have  done  so.'  That 
night  Mrs.  Green  and  his  eldest  son,  Captain  Frank 
W.  Green,  met  him  at  the  depot  and  accompanied 
him  home." 

We  continue  the  story  of  his  sufferings  by  quot- 
ing from  the  memorial  by  Dr.  Summers:  "Dr.  Green 
staid  with  us  at  the  Louisville  Hotel,  and  every  thing 
that  friends  could  do  for  him  was  done;  but  before 
the  General  Conference  adjourned  he  had  to  return 
to  Nashville.  Here  he  took  part  in  the  obsequies 
of  the  Rev.  F.  E.  Pitts,  who  preceded  him  to  the 
spirit-land;  and  was  in  the  programme  for  the  ob- 
sequies of  his  friend,  the  venerable  Dr.  Maddin, 
which  took  place  June  the  21st,  but  he  was  not  able 
to  be  present.  H'e  had  assisted  us  at  the  commun- 
ion in  McKen dree  Church  the  first  Sunday  in  June, 


268       LAST  CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS. 

and  closed  the  service  after  our  sermon  at  night  in 
the  same  church.  He  expressed  himself  as  greatly 
interested  in  the  discourse — it  was  on  the  last  judg- 
ment— and  in  his  prayer  gave  a  resume  of  the  ser- 
mon, with  remarkable  accuracy  and  great  fervor  of 
devotion.  He  also  closed  the  service  after  Dr.  Har- 
grove on  the  next  Sunday,  June  the  14th,  and  this, 
we  believe,  terminated  his  public  labors.  A  metas- 
tasis of  the  disease  (tetter)  to  the  bowels  took  place, 
and  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  stay  the  hand 
of  death.  Drs.  J.  W.  and  T.  L.  Macldin,  Eve,  Me- 
nees,  and  other  physicians — the  most  eminent  of  the 
profession — did  all  that  medical  skill  could  do;  his 
friends  were  unceasing  in  their  efforts  to  aiford  re- 
lief, but  'the  Lord's  appointment  is  the  servant's 
hour,'  and  that  hour  had  come." 

Besides  the  home-correspondence,  which  he  never 
neglected,  my  father  while  in  Louisville  remembers 
his  young  lady  correspondent,  Miss  Annie  Ransom. 
He  writes  (May  2,  1874):  "I  am  now  in  the  Confer- 
ence-room. The  business  is  going  on.  We  have 
something  over  two  hundred  members  present,  and 
more  will  no  doubt  arrive  to-day.  The  Bishops  are 
all  here,  and  seemingly  in  good  health.  Dr.  Pierce 
is  here,  though  he  seems  to  be  feeble.  I  am  located 
in  good  quarters  at  the  Louisville  Hotel.  Mrs.  Red- 
ford  had  me  assigned  to  a  room  near  the  Doctor's, 
so  that  if  I  should- be  sick  she  could  take  care  of 
me.  My  wife  will  not  be  able  to  be  here.  Our 
table  consists  of  Dr.  Redford  and  wife,  Dr.  Summers, 
wife,  and  son,  which  makes  us  fcef  vciy  much  like  a 
familv." 


LAST   CONFERENCES — SUFFERINGS.  269 

My  father  attended  the  last  session  of  his  own 
Conference  (the  Tennessee)  in  Franklin,  in  the  au- 
tumn of  1873.  He,  the  Rev.  Golman  Green,  and  I, 
roomed  together  at  Dr.  Parks's.  He  seemed  to  im- 
prove during  the  Conference,  and  preached  with  his 
old  energy.  He  was  full  of  life  and  hope,  and  en- 
tertained us  with  many  an  anecdote. 

Again  the  play  of  pain 
Shoots  o'er  his  features  as  the  sudden  gust 
Crisps  the  reluctant  lake,  that  lay  so  calm 
Beneath  the  mountain  shadow. 


49. 
His  DEATH  AND  BURIAL. 

CANNOT  to  this  day  take  the  word 
"  death  "  between  my  lips,  and  bracket  it 
to  the  name  of  my  father.  To  do  this 
might  be  in  accord  with  the  "  unities  and 
proprieties,"  but  would  be  a  violation  of  the  moral 
affinities  and  Christian  realities.  There  was  so  much 
of  the  bright  and  so  little  of  the  dark,  so  much  of 
hope  and  so  little  of  fear,  in  his  life  of  perfect  peace 
that  I  find,  as  I  think  of  him,  no  place  for  death. 
Every  niche  in  the  temple  of  his  life  was  occupied  by 
the  dii  majores,  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity. 

Stealthily  the  destroyer  did  his  work,  and  we 
were  stunned  when  it  was  accomplished.  Why  did 
we  not  know  what  was  so  evident  to  others?  Be- 
cause our  thoughts  of  him  were  not  mixed  with 
dust.  We  saw  the  heralds,  but  knew  them  not 
until  the  dark  plumes  waved  over  us,  and  we  stood 
in  the  presence  of  the  terrible  king. 

After  his  return  from  the  General  Conference  there 
was  some  improvement  for  about  ten  days;  then  the 
fatal  metastasis  set  in.  We  did  not  believe,  because 
we  did  not  want  to  believe.  By  no  member  of  his 
family  was  the  subject  of  death  mentioned,  because 
(270) 


HIS  DEATH  AND  BURIAL.  271 

the  mention  of  it  would  make  such  an  event  prob- 
able, and  the  bare  surmise  we  fought  against.  We 
prayed — prayed  together  and  in  private — but  not 
with  him.  He  asked  the  visiting  brethren  to  read 
the  Scriptures  and  to  pray  with  him,  and  talked  to 
them  freely  about  the  future  state,  but  said  nothing 
to  his  family  about  death  or  dying,  except  incident- 
ally on  one  occasion.  My  brother  Frank  and  I 
were  standing  by  his  bed;  he  had  just  rallied  from 
an  attack  of  syncope,  and  said,  "  I  want  you  to  carry 
me  out  on  a  carry-all  to  'Greenland;'  I  want  to  die 
there."  After  my  brother  stated  to  him  that  we 
were  at  the  old  home,  where  we  had  spent  so  many 
happy  days  together,  he  seemed  satisfied,  and  said 
no  more.  No  doubt  the  death  of  his  old  friends  in 
rapid  succession  —  Messrs.  Brown,  Maddin,  and 
Pitts — had  depressed  him  very  much. 

There  was  a  marked  resemblance  between  his 
death  and  that  of  the  Rev.  Elisha  Carr,  who  died 
in  1866.  Brother  Carr,  after  he  realized  the  fact 
that  he  must  die,  had  but  little  to  say  on  the  subject 
of  religion,  and  called  on  no  one  to  pray  with  him. 
Like  my  father,  he  felt  that  there  was  nothing  more 
to  do  but  to  die.  His  house  was  in  order,  and  the 
angels  stood  at  the  door. 

My  father  never  admitted,  during  his  last  illness, 
that  he  was  any  better;  but  his  kind  heart  would 
not  allow  him  to  afflict  his  family  with  his  convic- 
tions as  to  the  result. 

That  sad  afternoon,  when  he  called  for  writing- 
materials,  no  explanations  were  given,  before  or  after. 
He  sat  up  in  bed  without  help,  and,  in  a  steady 


272  HIS  DEATH  AND  BURIAL. 

hand,  wrote  his  last  will  and  testament,  closing  with 
the  illuminated  lines,  "MY  CHILDREN,  LIVE  IN  PEACE, 

AND  MEET  ME  IN  HEAVEN!" 

He  bore  his  afflictions  with  a  fortitude  that  was 
strange  to  his  friends. 

The  first  intimation  I  had  that  he  was  in  immi- 
nent danger  was  the  day  before  his  death.  I  re- 
marked to  him  that  I  would  go  to  my  appointment 
and  attend  to  some  matters,  which  would  require 
about  a  half  of  a  day,  and  return.  He  looked  at 
me  steadily,  and  said  not  a  word.  I  did  not  hear, 
but  saw,  his  thoughts.  I  did  not  go,  and  the  next 
day,  at  two  o'clock  P.M.,  I  saw  him  die. 

His  son-in-law,  Capt.  Robert  P.  Hunter,  died  just 
a  week  before,  at  the  country-place,  which  my  father 
did  not  know  until  he  met  him  in  heaven. 

We  shall  hold  in  everlasting  remembrance  the 
brethren  who  visited  and  prayed  with  him;  also, 
the  attending  physicians,  Drs.  T.  L.  and  J.  "W. 
Maddin,  who  were  so  assiduous  in  their  attentions; 
also,  Dr.  Paul  F.  Eve,  his  old  neighbor,  and  his  rela- 
tives, Dr.  Thomas  Menees  and  Dr.  Samuel  Jamison. 

We  have  a  precious  letter  from  the  now  sainted 
Bishop  E.  S.  Janes,  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church.  It  was  written  by  the  Bishop  before  the 
sad  news  reached  him,  two  clays  after  my  father's 
death.  Every  syllable  is  a  pearl.  The  memory  of 
Bishop  Janes  is  a  benison  to  every  Methodist,  North 
and  South.  It  may  be  a  small  item  to  insert  here; 
but  the  angels  will  not  object  to  it.  I  remember,  in 
1846,  that  Bishop  Janes  stopped  at  my  father's  door, 
and  left  a  package  of  beautiful  red  Testaments  for 


HIS   DEATH   AND   BURIAL.  273 

the  children.  Why  should  you  think  it  strange  that 
in  my  mind  the  name  of  Bishop  Janes  and  those 
Testaments  go  together?  The  Bishop  writes: 

"ROUND  LAKE  CAMP-MEETING,  i 

"Saratoga  County,  New  York,  July  17,  1874.  } 

"  REV.  A.  L.  P.  GREEN,  D.D. — Dear  Brother:  I  am 
pained  to  learn  of  your  severe  illness.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  possibly  you  might  be  able  to  hear  a  few 
lines  read  to  you  without  injury.  I  very  much  de- 
sire to  send  you  my  affectionate  greetings.  My 
heart  most  warmly  salutes  you  in  the  Lord.  I  re- 
member our  former  intercourse  with  great  pleasure 
and  satisfaction.  I  have  never  been  alienated  from 
my  brethren  in  the  South. 

"  Our  fraternal  meeting  here  is  very  pleasant,  and, 
I  think,  useful.  Bishop  Kavanaugh  is  here,  and 
Bishop  Doggett  is  on  his  way  hither.  Dr.  McFerrin 
has  been  here,  and  preached  to  us  lovingly.  I  am 
quite  sure  that  he  and  Brother  Plummer  enjoyed 
their  visit,  and  I  know  we  enjoyed  it.  They  will 
report  to  you  on  their  return.  Dr.  Sargent  and  Dr. 
Poisal  are  here;  they  have  both  preached  with  much 
acceptance. 

"  The  Methodist  Protestant  Church,  the  Methodist 
Church,  the  Free  Methodist,  the  African  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  the  African  Ziou  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  and  both  branches  of  the  Methodist 
Church  in  Canada,  are  represented  at  the  meeting. 
God  is  with  us  in  very  deed;  his  salvation  in  abun- 
dance flows. 

"O  how  I  wish  you  were  here!    Well,  we  shall 
12* 


274  HIS  DEATH  AND  BURIAL. 

meet  in  the  general  assembly  and  Church  of  the 
first-born  in  heaven.  I  feel  that  I  am  nearing  the 
eternal  home  of  God's  great,  and  holy,  and  happy 
family.  There  will  be  but  one  Methodism  in  heaven ; 
soon  there  will  be  but  one  on  earth.  Love  will  con- 
quer. The  constraining  love  of  Christ  is  mighty  to 
compel;  it  will  triumph. 

"I  fear  that  I  have  already  wearied  you.  I  pray 
God  to  give  you  all  needed  grace  in  this  suffering 
world,  and  all  the  beatitudes  of  the  spirit-world. 

"With  Christian  regards  to  your  family,  I  remain 
your  loving  brother  in  Jesus,  E.  S.  JANES. 

"P.S. — Bishop  Foster  is  with  me,  and  wishes  me 
to  express  to  you  his  affectionate  regards. 

"E.  S.  J." 

Dr.  Summers  furnishes  the  account  which  fol- 
lows of  my  father's  burial : 

"  His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 
So  mixed  in  him  that  Nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  This  was  a  man! 

"But  he  is  dead! 

"According  to  his  virtue  let  us  use  him 
With  all  respect  and  rite  of  burial. 

"And  it  was  so.  Dr.  Kelley  was  sent  for  to  the 
country,  and  arrived  in  time  for  the  funeral.  Drs. 
McFerrin,  Sawrie,  Haygood,  Hanner,  and  other 
ministers,  personal  and  intimate  friends  of  the  de- 
ceased, were  absent,  and  could  not  be  reached.  But 
the  ministers  of  the  city  and  neighborhood,  includ- 
ing some  of  other  Churches,  preceded  the  cortege 
from  the  house  of  mourning  to  the  house  of  prayer 


HIS  DEATH    AND   BURIAL.  275 

in  which  he  was  the  first  pastor  —  McKendree 
Church  —  which  he  loved  so  dearly.  Devout  men, 
official  members  from  the  different  stations,  bore 
him  to  his  burial.  The  service  at  the  church  was 
conducted  by  Bishop  McTyeire,  Drs.  Kelley,  Har- 
grove, Brown,  Young,  Bedford,  Warren,  and  Sum- 
mers— a  large  congregation  being  in  attendance, 
notwithstanding  the  rain,  as  the  death  of  Dr.  Green 
had  created  an  almost  unprecedented  sensation  in 
the  city.  The  discourses  of  Bishop  McTyeire  and 
Dr.  Kelley  were  beautiful  and  appropriate;  they 
were  listened  to  with  profound  interest.  The  serv- 
ice at  the  grave  was  impressively  read  by  the  Rev.  F. 
R.  Hill  and  Dr.  R.  K.  Hargrove.  It  was  the  sweet 
sunset  hour;  and  as  the  dulcet  sounds  of  a  song — 
one  of  the  Doctor's  favorites — were  given  forth  by 
the  choir,  one  could  almost  imagine  that  his  spirit 
was  present,  joining  in  the  refrain  about  'the  sweet 
fields  of  Eden,'  where  he  is  now  roaming  with  un- 
speakable joy.  We  laid  him  down  in  Mt.  Olivet 
Cemetery,  side  by  side  with  his  son-in-law,  Capt.  R. 
P.  Hunter,  who  was  interred  the  Sunday  previous. 
There,  too,  lie  the  remains  of  other  kindred.  There 
is  room  there  for  all  the  family." 

May  they  be  found,  no  wanderer  lost, 
A  family  in  heaven! 


50. 
TESTIMONY  OF  THE  BRETHREN. 

|E  cannot  close  this  record  without  append- 
ing the  "Testimony  of  the  Brethren." 
It  is  their  right  and  privilege  to  speak. 
All  the  lights  in  the  temple  of  humanity 
will  go  out  when  they  who  love  are  not  permitted 
to  speak  their  loves.  I  have  been  taught  from  a 
child  to  respect,  never  to  speak  evil  of,  and  to  give 
place  to  the  brethren.  I  rejoice  that  they  have  sat 
down  with  me,  and  assisted  so  fluently  and  fully  in 
the  estimate  of  my  father's  life.  I  am  now  a  child 
again,  respectful  and  obedient,  and  waiting  to  hear 
what  the  brethren  shall  say.  Bishop  McTyeire 
comes  first:  "And  now  to  speak  of  his  death. 
This  I  should  not  characterize  as  triumphant;  it  is 
enough  to  say  it  was  peaceful.  There  is  a  differ- 
ence according  to  sovereign  grace;  and  it  is  not 
always  according  to  eminence  in  usefulness,  or  even 
in  piety.  Some  do  triumph — they  rejoice  and  are 
exceeding  glad  in  the  prospects  of  the  grave;  they 
have  ecstasies  and  transports  in  dying.  Our  brother 
had  not  these.  The  end  of  this  man  was  peace. 
The  psalmist  thought  that  was  enough  even  for  the 
perfect  and  the  upright.  I  sympathize  with  the 
(276) 


TESTIMONY    OF    THE    BRETHREN.  277 

sentiment  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Few,  of  Georgia,  when 
he  lay  a-dying.  A  brother  sang  for  him  that  hymn 
which  has  this  refrain: 

I  hope  to  die  shouting,  the  Lord  will  provide ! 

Said  he,  'I  don't  ask  to  die  that  way,  but  peace- 
fully, as  the  sun  goes  down.'  So  died  Dr.  Green. 
We  had  the  privilege  of  more  than  one  prayerful 
intercourse  with  him.  He  believed  that  he  was 
nearing  the  end  when  others  had  hope. 

"'Doctor,  you  have  done  a  great  deal  of  preach- 
ing; how  does  it  appear  now  as  you  look  back  on 
it?'  There  was  no  remark  of  self-depreciation,  as 
that  he  might  have  done  it  better,  or  more  of  it,  but 
this  was  the  deliberate  reply :  '  I  am  impressed  with 
its  truth!  "What  I  have  been  preaching  is  true !' 

"At  another  time,  on  leaving  to  be  gone  a  few 
days  in  West  Tennessee,  he  intimated  a  desire  that 
I  should  not  go  where  a  message  could  not  reach 
me,  as  something  might  happen.  All  the  while  he 
expected  to  die,  saying — the  visit  before  my  last — 
1  My  course  is  run ! '  And  yet  there  was  no  trepida- 
tion, no  fear.  He  was  as  serene  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  death,  and  all  the  realities  which  death  was 
about  to  unfold,  as  though  the  signal  had  been  given 
at  the  camp-meeting  and  he  was  leaving  the  preach- 
ers'-tent  to  fill  his  appointment.  Already  the  sing- 
ing had  begun  at  the  stand,  and  the  people  had 
gathered,  and  he  was  ready. 

"About  two  o'clock  on  Wednesday  afternoon, 
July  15,  1874,  he  asked  his  son  Frank  to  turn  him 
on  his  side;  and  without  gasping  for  breath,  or 


280  TESTIMONY   OF   THE   BRETHREN. 

During  his  years  of  extreme  suffering  uo  one  ever 
heard  him  complain  or  repine.  He  would  converse, 
write,  preach,  and  make  speeches — do  every  thing 
the  occasion  required — and  none  but  his  intimate 
friends  would  suspect  there  was  any  thing  the  matter 
with  him,  except  as  there  would  be  an  uncontrolla- 
ble effort  to  relieve  himself  of  the  tormenting  pain 
which  he  endured." 

Dr.  J.  B.  MoFerrin  says:  "  My  last  interview  with 
him — not  long  before  I  left  home — was  very  pleas- 
ant. He  was  calm,  peaceful,  resigned,  and  full  of 
hope  in  view  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  When  I  said,  'This 
mortal  must  put  on  immortality'  (pointing  to  his 
emaciated  frame),  he  said,  'That  is  beautiful!'  and 
spoke  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body  with  rapture. 
By  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  by  the  faith 
vouchsafed  to  him,  he  felt  that  Christ  had  blessed 
the  graves  of  all  his  saints,  and  that  he  was  going 
to  rest  with  his  dying  Head." 

I  remember  that  in  this  last  interview  Dr.  McFer- 
rin  put  a  question  to  my  father,  as  to  the  future 
state,  which  he  answered  by  saying,  "All  is  as  clear 
as  glass!"  I  mention  this  because  it  was  one  of 
his  favorite  sayings  when  in  health. 

Dr.  Young  says:  "The  day  before  he  died,  learn- 
ing that  I  was  to  leave  the  city,  he  sent  for  me  to 
come  in.  Giving  me  his  hand,  he  said,  'I  wanted 
to  say  to  you  that  all  is  right! '  These  were  his  last 
words  to  me." 

In  the  autumn  of  1874  a  memorial  service  was 
held  in  Gallatin,  in  memory  of  Messrs.  Maddin, 


Pitta,  and  ffliu  n,  hy  the  T< 
ence.    W*  know  that  on  that 
"stnager'fi  eye  wept.9    We  extract  the  last 
graph  of  the  charming  ofieial  tribnte  by  the  Rev. 
James  K.  Prammer: 

-Dr.  Green  has  gone  «p  from  among  ns!    And 

that  voice,  which  hae  been  ftanSar  to  n»  an  »  Oonv- 
long.     Tnne  and  again  have  we  looked 
is  fee  Ik*  ilnlilj  ferm  that  six 


always  our  ngjpn&f  a»d  fir  that 

that  always  inspired  oar  love,    Havng 

lag  of  ttw  tkM%  k*  wfll  w>  vore  teQ  «s  what  land 

oo*ht  todo;  and  yet  we  feel  as  if  l»e  were  fisteain*1 

to  the  words  we  speak." 


Hie  foe  has  gone  out  on  the  hearth ;  the  voices 
of  the  brethren  ate  hashed;  the  circle  is  broken:  I 
am  alone,  and  the  «toy«f 


280  TESTIMONY    OF    THE    BRETHREN. 

During  his  years  of  extreme  suffering  110  one  ever 
heard  him  complain  or  repine.  He  would  converse, 
write,  preach,  and  make  speeches — do  every  thing 
the  occasion  required — and  none  but  his  intimate 
friends  would  suspect  there  was  any  thing  the  matter 
with  him,  except  as  there  would  be  an  uncontrolla- 
ble effort  to  relieve  himself  of  the  tormenting  pain 
which  he  endured." 

Dr.  J.  B.  McFerrin  says:  "  My  last  interview  with 
him — not  long  before  I  left  home — was  very  pleas- 
ant. He  was  calm,  peaceful,  resigned,  and  full  of 
hope  in  view  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  the 
resurrection  of  the  body.  When  I  said,  'This 
mortal  must  put  on  immortality'  (pointing  to  his 
emaciated  frame),  he  said,  'That  is  beautiful!'  and 
spoke  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body  with  rapture. 
By  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  by  the  faith 
vouchsafed  to  him,  he  felt  that  Christ  had  blessed 
the  graves  of  all  his  saints,  and  that  he  was  going 
to  rest  with  his  dying  Head." 

I  remember  that  in  this  last  interview  Dr.  McFer- 
rin put  a  question  to  my  father,  as  to  the  future 
state,  which  he  answered  by  saying,  "All  is  as  clear 
as  glass!"  I  mention  this  because  it  was  one  of 
his  favorite  sayings  when  in  health. 

Dr.  Young  says:  "The  day  before  he  died,  learn- 
ing that  I  was  to  leave  the  city,  he  sent  for  me  to 
come  iii.  Giving  me  his  hand,  he  said,  'I  wanted 
to  say  to  you  that  all  is  right ! '  These  were  his  last 
words  to  me." 

In  the  autumn  of  1874  a  memorial  service  was 
held  in  Gallatin,  in  memory  of  Messrs.  Ma-ddin, 


TESTIMONY    OF    THE    BRETHREN.  281 

Pitts,  and  Green,  by  the  Tennessee  Annual  Confer- 
ence. We  know  that  on  that  occasion  even  the 
"  stranger's  eye  wept."  We  extract  the  last  para- 
graph of  the  charming  official  tribute  by  the  Rev. 
James  R.  Plummer: 

"Dr.  Green  has  gone  up  from  among  us!  And 
yet  it  seems  we  cannot  help  straining  our  ears  for 
that  voice,  which  has  been  familiar  to  us  as  a  Con- 
ference so  long.  Time  and  again  have  we  looked 
eagerly  around  us  for  that  stately  form  that  sat 
among  us  in  such  perfect  equipoise,  commanding 
always  our  respect;  and  for  that  benevolent  face 
that  always  inspired  our  love.  Having  understand- 
ing of  the  times,  he  will  no  more  tell  us  what  Israel 
ought  to  do;  and  yet  we  feel  as  if  he  were  listening 
to  the  words  we  speak." 

The  fire  has  gone  out  on  the  hearth ;  the  voices 
of  the  brethren  are  hushed;  the  circle  is  broken;  I 
am  alone,  and  the  story  of  my  father's  life  is  ended. 

Are  there  spirits  more  blest  than  the  planets  of  even 
That  mount  to  their  zenith,  then  melt  into  heaven — 
No  waning  of  fire,  no  quenching  of  ray, 
But  rising,  still  rising,  when  passing  away? 


DR.  GREEN'S  PAPERS. 


THE  PAPEES. 


Au,  that  follows  is  not  even  the  moiety  of  Dr.  Green's  literary 
productions.  If  the  grouml-plon  Hhould  allow  such  a  superstruct- 
ure, yet  we  do  not  think  it  best  to  insert  all  of  his  papers.  He  was 
a  preacher,  and  yet  we  exclude  his  published  sermons;  those  who 
wish  to  read  them  (and  they  rnny  bo  read  with  profit)  will  find 
them  in  durable  form,  preserved  in  leather. 

With  a  few  exceptions,  his  "memorials" — a  great  host — are  left 
out;  they  ore  good;  and  yet,  who  would  be  sufficient  to  read  them? 
We  have  consulted  only  the  taste  of  the  general  reader,  who  is  fond 
of  that  which  is  qunint,  humorous,  and  practical. 

In  half  a  score  of  letters  our  attention  has  been  directed  to  pub- 
lished articles,  which  we  have  been  unable  to  find;  so  there  is  no 
intentionnl  neglect. 

Waiving  the  "Papers" — for  it  would  be  sncrilego  to  spoil  them — 
we  cannot  see  how  any  one  but  a  Methodist  preacher  could  afford 
to  criticise  the  "Life,"  as  it  would  be  a  great  labor  and  poor  pny. 
However,  wo  will  have  this  understnnding  with  the  critic,  aside:  If 
he  be  a  man,  to  examine  himself,  nnd  be  sure  that  ho  docs  not  make 
the  poor  author  feel  like  the  hunter  whose  foot  was  bitten  off  l>y  a 
wild  jack— not  the  loss  of  the  foot,  or  death,  but  the  thing  that  bit 
it  off,  was  the  trouble.  If  the  critic  be  a  woman,  we  shall  sit  down 
and  be  sad  or  glad,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  case. 
(284) 


DR,  GEEM'S  PAPERS, 


STORIES. 

DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER. 

~TT  was  night,  when  the  orphan  Marks  was  returning 
JL  from  his  labor,  with  his  spado  on  his  shoulder,  while 
dark,  thick  clouds  hung  upon  tho  sky.  Alone,  and 
bending  his  weary  steps  to  his  humble  hut,  ho  had  been 
taking  a  dreamy  review  of  tho  past,  and  throwing  his 
thoughts  into  tho  sunless  future.  He  had  nearly 
reached  a  point  where  the  road  crosses  a  deep  ravine, 
on  rather  a  high  fill,  some  two  miles  from  tho  city  of 
N.,  when  ho  heard  just  before  him  hurried  voices — soon 
after,  tho  rattling  of  wheels,  and  struggling  like  that  of 
horses  entangled  in  harness.  A  few  steps  brought  him 
to  a  point  where,  from  the  light  of  his  lantern,  ho  saw, 
down  tho  bank,  what  scorned  to  bo  some  sort  of  a  car- 
riage, which  had  been  upset,  while  tho  horses  were 
struggling  to  free  themselves.  He  descended  hasti!}' 
to  the  spot,  and  found  two  ruffians  drugging  a  man, 
who  seemed  to  bo  rather  advanced  in  years,  from  under 
the  carriage,  while  tho  old  man  was  calling  upon  t  IK-HI 
for  God's  sake  to  spare  his  life.  Marks  saw  at  onco 
that  the  old  man  had  fallen  into  the  hand*  of  robbers; 


286  DONOR   AND   THE   DITCHER. 

but  by  the  free  use  of  his  spade  he  soon  dispersed  the 
robbers,  and  saved  the  old  man,  whom  he  assisted  in 
restoring  his  carriage  to  a  traveling  condition  again. 
After  the  old  gentleman  had  expressed  many  thanks  for 
the  services  that  were  rendered  him,  and  inquired  of 
Marks  his  name  and  place  of  abode,  the  two  strangers 
bade  each  other  good-night,  the  traveler  to  pursue  his 
way,  and  Marks  going  to  his  obscure  abode.  This  cir- 
cumstance soon  passed  away  from  the  mind  of  Marks, 
and  his  thoughts  returned  again  to  those  subjects  that 
pertained  more  particularly  to  his  helpless  condition. 

Three  nights  after  this  event,  at  about  eleven  o'clock, 
when  the  fire  had  well-nigh  disappeared  from  the  hum- 
ble hearth  of  Marks,  and  he  was  about  to  drag  his  weary 
limbs  to  his  scanty  pallet,  to  seek  that  refreshment  in 
sleep  which  was  necessary  to  prepare  him  for  the  labors 
of  the  next  day,  suddenly  his  door  opened,  and  there 
stood  before  him  a  tall  figure,  in  the  costume  of  a  com- 
mon citizen,  but  wearing  a  youthful  mask,  who  stood 
for  some  moments  contemplating  Marks  with  a  most 
searching  look.  At  length  the  stranger  broke  silence 
by  saying,  "Mr.  Marks,  your  sorrows,  your  poverty, 
and  your  very  secret  thoughts,  are  known  to  me;  for  I 
have  been  your  unknown  hearer,  and  that  God  who 
hears  the  young  ravens  when  they  cry  has  directed  me 
to  come  to  you  this  night.  When  I  was  approaching 
your  door  I  heard  what  seemed  to  me  to  be  conversation 
within;  and  as  I  wished  to  have  an  interview  with  you 
alone,  I  thought  I  would  remain  without,  unnoticed, 
until  your  visitor  might  depart;  but  I  soon  discovered 
that  there  was  but  one  voice,  and  that  which  I  took  at 
-•first  to  be  a  conversation  was  but  an  unconscious  ex- 
pression in  words  of  the  thoughts  which  were  strug- 
gling through  your  mind;  and  to  show  you  that  I  was 


DONOR  AND   THE   DITCHER.  287 

an  attentive  hearer,  I  will  repeat  what  you  said,  or  at 
least  so  far  as  I  am  able  to  recollect  it.  The  first  thing 
that  I  distinctly  heard  was,  lHow  hard  is  my  lot! '  and 
then  you  proceeded  as  follows:  'Mine  has  been  a 
doomed  family.  My  father  was  a  ditcher  before  me. 
Yes,  I  can  see  his  bent  form  this  moment,  leaning  over 
his  spade,  with  the  perspiration  standing  on  his  pale 
brow,  and  his  thin  and  whitened  locks  matted  with 
sweat  and  clay,  and  his  old,  seared  hands  trembling, 
while  he  would  rest  for  a  moment  upon  his  spade.  I 
also  hear  his  moan  now,  when  his  aged  limbs  would 
complain  at  night  of  having  been  too  heavily  taxed  by 
the  labors  of  the  day.  But  he  was  honest,  and  the 
little  bread  that  he  did  eat  was  obtained  truly  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow;  yet,  kind  father,  I  never  heard  you 
complain  of  your  lot.  And  my  good  old  mother — how 
anxious  you  were  ever  to  have  something  to  refresh 
him  when  he  would  return  from  the  toils  of  the  day ! 
and  I  do  not  know  but  you  were  happy.  And  when 
Sunday  came,  I  remember  your  efforts  to  appear  de- 
cent at  church,  and  how  cheerfully  you  accepted  those 
seats  prepared  for  the  accommodation  of  the  unoffend- 
ing poor;  and  I  never  heard  you  complain,  only  when 
age  had  impaired  the  hearing  of  my  father,  he  said 
he  would  like  to  be  able  to  have  a  seat  nearer  to  the 
minister,  so  as  to  enable  him  to  hear  the  sermon. 
Neither  did  you  express  fears  on  my  account,  farther 
than  that  it  was  to  be  feared  that  my  physical  strength 
would  not  be  sufficient  to  enable  me  to  succeed  as  a 
ditcher.  But,  kind  parents,  your  labor  is  over,  and  you 
are  at  rest;  and  though  your  coffins  are  without  pall  or 
varnish,  and  no  proud  monument  marks  the  place  of 
your  slumbers,  yet  your  bed  is  as  soft,  and  your  slumbers 
as  sweet,  as  those  of  any  who  repose  under  the  finest 


288  DONOR   AND   THE   DITCHER. 

marble;  and  though  there  are  none  on  earth  to  guard 
the  spot  where  you  rest  in  hope,  except  myself,  yet  the 
angel  of  the  resurrection  shall  watch  over  your  dust 
till  that  day.  The  last  words  of  my  father  were,  "Be 
honest,  my  boy;  I  have  no  legacy  to  leave  you  but  my 
spade."  And  this  is  the  same  room  in  which  you  lived.' 
Then  your  thoughts  seemed  to  turn  upon  your  own 
case,  and  you  said,  'If  by  my  labor  I  could  only  pro- 
cui-e  a  support,  food  and  raiment,  that  would  be  all 
that  I  could  wish  or  ask  for;  but  the  number  of  labor- 
ers has  increased,  and  prices  have  fallen,  and  labor 
fails  to  bring  me  a  support;  and  when  affliction  or  old 
age  shall  come  upon  me,  who  will  care  for  me  then?  '  A 
sigh  followed;  you  ceased  to  speak;  and  finding  that 
you  were  just  about  to  lay  yourself  down  to  rest,  I  en- 
tered your  door." 

"Well,"  said  Marks,  "you  have  heard  all;  and  if  you 
are  poor,  you  will  know  how  to  appreciate  it;  and 
should  you  be  rich,  think  not  of  it  again ;  for  what  you 
have  heard,  kind  stranger,  is  but  the  expression  of  those 
feelings  common  to  the  poor." 

The  stranger  replied  by  saying,  "Marks,  I  came  not 
to  spy  out  your  poverty  or  mock  your  distress;  but  I 
came  on  an  impoi'tant  errand.  I  have  one  question  to 
ask  you,  and  I  wish  you  to  be  careful  in  your  answer. 
Should  you  answer  me  correctly,  it  shall  be  well ;  but  if 
falsely,  then  all  is  lost.  I  want  to  know  what  is  need- 
ful for  you  in  the  way  of  support.  You  said  awhile 
ago  that  if  by  your  labor  you  could  procure  food  and 
raiment,  that  would  be  all  that  you  wanted.  Now,  tell 
me  your  real  wants,  and  they  shall  be  supplied;  but 
should  you  ask  for  more,  then  you  will  forfeit  my  protec- 
tion. The  name  by  which  you  shall  know  me  is  Donor." 

To  this  Marks  replied,  "I  can  obtain  by  my  daily 


DONOK  AND   THE    DITCHER.  289 

labor  two  shillings  per  day,  which  will  amount  to 
twelve  shillings  per  week.  Of  this  two  shillings  are 
required  for  rents,  two  for  fuel,  and  two  for  clothing, 
which  leaves  me  six  shillings;  this  amount  furnishes 
me  with  one  full  meal  per  day,  during  the  working 
days,  and  I  only  have  some  refreshments  upon  the 
Sabbath,  when  during  the  week  I  partake,  once  or  oft- 
ener,  of  but  a  piece  of  a  meal.  Had  I  seven  shillings 
over  and  above  my  wages,  then  I  would  have  two  meals 
a  day  for  each  laboring  day,  and  one  on  the  Sabbath. 
But  I  would  not  ask  for  too  much.  It  may  not  be  that 
the  meal  on  the  Sabbath-day  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
me.  You  will  judge  of  that  yourself,  dear  Donor." 

Donor  replied  that  the  demands  were  reasonable,  and 
that  he  should  have  the  seven  shillings,  which  he  forth- 
with paid  over  to  Marks,  and  took  his  leave,  saying,  "I 
will  see  you  again,  one  week  from  this  night.  See  that 
you  are  here  at  that  time,  and  alone." 

After  the  departure  of  this  mysterious  stranger, 
Marks  felt  for  some  moments  that  he  was  a  happy 
man.  "Now  there  is  before  me,"  he  said,  "an  assur- 
ance of  competency — two  meals  per  day,  also  one  on 
the  Sabbath."  This  good  fortune  so  overpowered  him 
with  joy  that  he  found  it  difficult  to  get  to  sleep;  but 
before  the  week  passed  by  Marks  thought  he  ought  to 
have  said  something  to  Donor  about  fuel,  as  he  only 
had  about  half  a  supply;  "and  then  ought  not  I  to  have 
a  bit  of  candle  to  give  me  light  to  see  how  to  take  my 
evening  meal,  for  which  one  candle  would  be  a  week's 
supply?"  and  he  began  to  wish  the  hour  to  roll  round 
for  Donor's  return. 

At  the  appointed  minute  Donor  appeared  again,  and 
inquired  of  Marks  if  he  had  all  that  he  needed. 

Marks  replied  by  saying,  "  My  dear  Donor,  I  thought 
13 


290  DONOR   AND   THE   DITCHER. 

that  it  was  needful  for  me  to  have  an  increase  of  fuel, 
as  I  am  often  shivering  with  cold,  and  have  not  enough 
even  to  prepare  my  food ;  and  a  bit  of  candle  to  give 
me  light  while  taking  my  evening  meal." 

"Marks,  these  things  are  needful,  and  you  shall  have 
them.  How  much  will  be  necessary?" 

"Three  shillings  more,"  said  Marks. 

'•Here  is  ten  shillings,"  said  Donor;  "is  that  all  you 
need?" 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Marks. 

"Seven  days  hence,  at  this  hour,  I  will  see  you  again. 
Eemember  that  I  am  to  give  you  all  you  need,  and  no 
more.  Take  care  always  what  you  ask  for." 

After  the  departure  of  Donor,  Marks  felt  for  some 
hours  that  he  was  supplied  with  a  competency.  "I 
have  two  meals  for  the  laboring  days,  and  one  for  the 
Sabbath,  enough  fuel  for  a  fire  every  night,  and  a  can- 
dle to  eat  my  evening  meal  by."  But  Donor  had  not 
been  long  gone  before  Marks,  when  about  to  retire, 
thought  it  was  a  pity  that  he  had  failed  to  mention  to 
him  something  about  his  scanty  bed;  for  in  order  that 
a  laboring  man  should  be  comfortable,  it  is  important 
that  he  should  have  a  bed  to  rest  upon,  and  his  was  so 
scant  a  pallet  that  it  deserved  not  the  name  of  a  bed. 
So,  on  the  return  of  Donor,  he  told  him  the  nature  of 
his  wretched  bed.  and  said  that  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  he  should  have  a  bed  to  rest  upon,  which 
Donor  readily  agreed  to,  and  told  him  to  fix  his  price, 
which  Marks  estimated  at  twenty  shillings.  This 
Donor  gave  him,  together  with  the  ten  shillings  which 
was  his  weekly  supply,  and  asked  him  if  there  was 
any  thing  more  necessary,  reminding  him  at  the  same 
time  of  the  danger  of  asking  for  that  which  L  o  did  not 
need.  Marks  declared  tl  at  was  all. 


DONOR   AND   THE   DITCHER.  291 

He  soon  procured  his  bed,  and  having  food,  and  fuel, 
and  light,  felt  for  several  hours  that  he  was  well  off. 
But  at  length  he  remembered  that  all  the  while  he  had 
forgotten  his  clothes;  that  he  had  none  at  all  save 
such  as  were  common  to  ditchers,  and  not  at  all  suitable 
to  go  to  church  or  take  a  walk  on  a  Sabbath  evening; 
and  that  the  Sabbath-day  might  be  made  a  blessing  to 
him,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  have,  a  Sunday 
suit,  which  Donor  granted,  and  gave  him  three  pounds 
for  that  purpose.  In  a  short  time  Marks  appeared  in 
his  suit  of  fine  clothes,  which  created  in  him  a  new 
class  of  feelings.  He  at  once  felt  inclined  to  be  seen, 
which  he  never  before  desired,  and  soon  began  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  young  gentlemen  whose  society  he 
had  never  before  enjoyed,  having  always  previously 
been  confined  to  the  society  of  day-laborers.  Mingling 
of  evenings  with  young  men  of  pleasure,  he  heard  them 
talk  of  the  theater,  opera,  ball,  and  other  places  of 
amusement,  and  at  once  felt  a  desire  to  know  some- 
thing of  these  to  him  unknown  fountains  of  pleasure; 
and  he  sighed,  and  said  within  himself  that  man 
needed  that  which  would  make  him  happy,  and  that 
happiness  must  be  a  stranger  unless  he  could  be  able 
to  spend  an  evening  or  two  in  the  week  with  young 
pepple,  at  some  places  of  amusement;  for  a  man  has 
eyes  and  ears  as  well  as  an  appetite  for  food;  and  that 
every  one  should  see  and  hear  a  little  of  what  is  going 
on  in  the  great  world  around  us;  and  though  he  had 
food  enough  for  himself,  he  ought  to  have  something  to 
set  before  a  friend  who  might  call  to  see  him — and  he 
anxiously  awaited  the  return  of  Donor. 

At  the  appointed  time  Donor  was  there,  and,  seeing 
that  Marks  did  not  look  so  happy  as  he  would  have 
liked  to  sec  him,  inquired  into  the  cause  of  his  apparent 


292  DONOR   AND   THE    DITCHER. 

gloom,  and  wished  to  know  if  there  was  any  thing 
which  he  needed;  to  which  Marks  replied  by  saying, 
"My  dear  Donor,  in  order  to  be  happy  it  is  necessary 
that  I  should  have  society;  and  as  I  have  to  receive 
those  on  whom  I  call,  it  will  be  necessary,  first,  that  I 
should  have  a  few  shillings  to  spend  of  evenings,  and 
also  something  to  improve  my  stores,  in  order  that  I 
may  be  able  to  set  something  before  my  friends,  should 
any  chance  to  call  on  me." 

"These  things  are  necessary,  Marks,  or  at  least  you 
think  so,  and  you  shall  have  them;  but  tell  me  the 
amount." 

"Two  shillings  of  an  evening,  twice  a  week,  for 
places  of  amusement,  and  four  per  week  in  addition  to 
my  stores."  This  amount,  together  with  the  previous 
appropriations,  were  counted  down  to  Marks,  and 
Donoi',  reminding  him  of  the  conditions  upon  which 
he  was  to  bestow  his  favors,  took  his  leave. 

This  week  was  a  comparatively  happy  one  with 
Marks.  He  spent  one  evening  at  the  exchange,  an- 
other .at  the  restaurant,  and  it  turned  out  that  two  of 
Marks's  new  acquaintances  visited  him,  which  made 
him  feel  sensibly  that  there  was  no  sort  of  agreement 
between  his  Sunday  suit  and  his  furniture.  He  had  no 
chairs,  no  table,  no  comforts;  and  unless  he  could  get 
some  furniture  for  his  house,  it  was  vain  to  put  on  fine 
clothes. 

So,  on  Donor's  next  visit,  Marks  laid  these  things 
before  him,  saying,  "My  dear  Donor,  you  see  the  empty 
condition  of  this  house.  I  must  have  chairs,  a  table, 
and  some  table-furniture;  and  then  my  cooking  uten- 
sils are  so  scant,  and  this  earthen  floor  so  cold ;  and, 
moreover,  there  is  no  place  about  the  house  to  keep  my 
Sunday  suit  from  dust  and  dirt,  and  unless  one  can 


DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER.  293 

have  his  house  comfortable,  every  thing  else  goes  for 
nothing." 

"Truly,"  said  Donor,  "these  things  are  necessary; 
make  out  your  bill."  Fifty  pounds  was  found  to  be  suf- 
ficient, and  the  amount  was  paid  over. 

Marks  was  for  several  days  very  much  interested  in 
procuring  furniture  for  his  house.  He  bought  a  table, 
some  chairs,  an  armoire,  and  such  other  things  as  were 
found  necessary.  But  before  the  week  was  past  he 
discovered  that  his  house  was  not  in  keeping  with  his 
furniture,  and,  as  his  landlord  would  not  repair  it,  that 
it  was  absolutely  necessary  he  should  have  an  appro- 
priation for  the  purpose  of  making  certain  improve- 
ments. It  must  have  a  new  roof,  the  doors  and  windows 
must  be  repaired,  and  considerable  paint  would  be  re- 
quired to  bring  it  up  to  any  thing  like  a  decent  appear- 
ance. 

So  when  Donor  returned,  he  found  Marks  quite 
unhappy  on  account  of  the  uncomfortable  condition 
of  his  house.  He  went  into  a  long  detail  of  the  ruin 
which  would  of  necessity  follow,  of  his  furniture,  and, 
in  fact,  of  every  thing  in  the  house,  unless  he  could 
have  it  repaired.  Donor  did  not  object  to  making  the 
improvements,  and  at  once  estimated  the  amount  which 
would  be  required  for  the  purpose  at  one  hundred 
pounds,  which  sum  was  put  into  the  hands  of  Marks, 
who  soon  called  in  the  mechanics,  and  had  his  house 
thoroughly  repaired. 

During  the  time  that  the  improvements  were  going 
on  Marks  seemed  to  be  greatly  delighted,  and  his  de- 
mands upon  Donor  were  not  much  increased  for  several 
weeks.  At  length  the  repairs  were  completed,  and 
Marks,  when  he  looked  upon  his  armoire,  chairs,  table, 
and  the  improved  and  comfortable  condition  of  his 


294  DONOR  AND   THE   DITCHER. 

house,  thought  he  was  now  prepared  to  live.  He  could 
spend  an  evening  now  and  then  at  places  of  amuse- 
ment; and  as  his  house  was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  re- 
spectable, and  he  had  such  additions  to  his  stores  as 
to  enable  him  to  entertain  a  friend  occasionally,  he 
supposed  himself  happy.  But  the  contentment  of 
Marks  did  not  last  long.  Having  arisen  above  the 
condition  of  the  common  ditcher  in  his  circumstances, 
and  having  occasionally  mingled  with  young  men  of 
pleasure,  of  evenings,  at  places  of  amusement,  he  soon 
felt  the  loneliness  of  his  situation  when  his  house  was 
clear  of  visitors,  and  concluded,  after  all,  the  only  way 
to  be  happy  was  to  have  a  companion.  On  the  return 
of  Donor,  with  some  degree  of  embarrassment  he  made 
known  to  him  his  desires,  saying  that  he  had  thought 
much  on  the  subject,  and  that  it  was  a  matter  of  judg- 
ment with  him,  as  well  as  feeling,  asserting  at  the  same 
time  that  we  are  social  beings,  and  that  if  we  cannot 
get  that  kind  of  society  which  is  suitable  to  us,  we  are 
too  apt  to  fall  into  bad  company;  that  home  had  be- 
come dull  and  irksome  to  him;  and,  worse  than  all, 
that  he  was  contracting  the  habit  of  going  out  too  often 
of  an  evening  in  search  of  society,  and  that  it  would 
be  much  better  for  him  to  have  such  attractions  at 
home  as  to  make  it  preferable  to  all  other  places;  and 
then  he  would  no  longer  feel  lonely  and  restless,  but 
would  make  his  house  a  little  paradise.  Donor  agreed 
with  him,  and  said  that  it  was  not  good  for  man  to  be 
alone,  and  that  he  should  look  out  for  some  person 
suitable  to  his  years,  educatioji,  and  temporal  condition, 
to  make  him  a  wife.  "And  there  are  many  plain,  in- 
dustrious, virtuous  young  ladies  who  would  readily 
connect  their  interest  with  yours." 

"My  dear  Donor,"  said  Marks,  "forgive  me  if  I  am 


DONOR   AND   THE    DITCHER.  295 

\vrong;  but  I  must  say  to  you  that  those  plain,  indus- 
trious girls  of  whom  you  speak,  although  they  might 
he  able  to  keep  house  for  me,  and  cook,  and  wash,  and 
be  true  to  me,  yet  a  man  who  has  seen  a  little  of  the 
world,  and  has  had  a  little  taste  of  fashion  and  what 
the  world  calls  style,  would  never  be  satisfied  with  such 
a  one  as  you  speak  of.  She  would  not  be  able  to  pre- 
side at  my  table  when  my  friends  might  call  to  see  me; 
for  you  must  know  that  since  I  have  gotten  my  new 
furniture,  and  the  repairs  done  upon  my  house,  with 
my  suit  of  clothes,  I  am  no  longer  visited  by  ditchers, 
but  by  young  gentlemen  of  taste  and  pleasure;  and 
you  must  know,  my  dear  sir,  that  it  would  be  a  source 
of  mortification  to  me  for  my  wife  not  to  know  what 
my  guests  might  mean  when  they  should  speak  of  soiree, 
or  opera,  or  other  subjects  that  might  come  up  in  con- 
versation. So  you  see,  Donor,  that  such  as  you  recom- 
mend would  not  suit  me  at  all." 

"Well."  said  Donor,  "make  your  selection,  and  then 
I  will  judge  of  the  propriety  of  the  connection." 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Marks,  "when  I  tell  you  I  have 
already  made  my  choice.  Miss  Rue  Chaftan,  of  all  the 
ladies  in  the  world — in  my  judgment  there  is  none 
equal  to  her.  There  is  so  much  grace  in  her  motion, 
such  a  smile  always  playing  on  her  beautiful  face;  and 
she  dresses  so  neatly,  and  converses  so  freely  and  flu- 
ently. I  am  told  she  understands  French,  and  can 
dance  the  polka  to  perfection,  and  to  see  her  waltzing 
would  make  your  heart  ache ;  and  then  she  is  acquainted 
with  all  the  young  gentlemen,  far  and  near.  Ah,  if  I 
could  only  call  her  my  own,  I  should  be  the  happiest 
man  in  the  world!  and  while  I  think  it  necessary  that 
I  should  marry,  I  think  at  the  same  time  that  it  is 
equally  necessary  that  Miss  Rue  should  be  the  lady." 


296  DONOR    AND    THE    DITCIIER. 

"What  evidence,  Marks,"  said  Donor,  "have  you 
that  you  can  gain  her  hand?" 

"Pardon  me  when  I  tell  you  that  she  is  fairly  in 
market,  and  has  been  for  some  time;  and  it  is  pretty 
well  understood  by  the  knowing  ones  that  her  father 
has  outlived  his  income,  and  is  at  this  time  greatly 
pressed  in  his  business,  and  is  ambitious  to  keep  up 
appearances;  and  Miss  Eue  is  a  check  which  five  thou- 
sand pounds  would  honor.  If  I  had  that  amount  at 
present  to  loan  to  Mr.  Chaftan,  then  it  would  be  an 
easy  matter  to  negotiate  for  his  daughter.  For  though 
he  loves  his  daughter,  yet  his  pride  is  equal  to  his  love ; 
and  it  is  my  opinion,  if  a  young  man  of  decent  appear- 
ance could  loan  the  father  five  thousand,  the  contract 
for  the  daughter  would  not  be  hard  to  make." 

Donor  greatly  doubted  the  propriety  of  the  measure, 
and  said  that  if  it  was  left  to  him  to  select  a  lady  he 
would  choose  quite  a  different  one,  and  that  five  thou- 
sand pounds  was  a  large  sum.  "But,"  said  he,  "as  I 
have  promised  to  supply  your  wants,  Marks,  and  as  you 
want  a  wife,  and  as  Miss  Eue  is  the  person,  and  no  one 
else,  you  must  have  the  amount." 

Soon  after,  this  sum  was  offered  by  Marks  to  Mr. 
Chaftan,  on  very  liberal  terms.  Mr.  Chaftan  gladly 
accepted  the  offer,  and  appeared  very  anxious  to  re- 
ward young  Marks  for  his  kindness.  But  Marks  refused 
to  acknowledge  any  obligation  farther  than  that  it 
would  afford  him  great  pleasure  to  become  a  little  better 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Chaftan's  very  interesting  family, 
and  especially  Miss  Rue.  The  thought  at  once  burst 
upon  the  mind  of  Mr.  Chaftan  that  it  might  be  possible, 
through  Rue,  to  form  such  a  connection  with  Mr.  Marks 
as  to  make  the  five  thousand  a  common  family  fund. 
Though  Mr.  Marks  is  deficient  in  education,  and  want- 


DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER.  297 

ing  to  some  extent  in  manners  and  refinement,  yet  what 
is  a  little  education  or  manners  when  one  has  need  of 
five  thousand  pounds?  That  amount  of  money  is  not 
picked  up  at  corners  of  the  streets  every  day;  and 
Eue  would  soon  become  accustomed  to  him,  at  any  rate. 
So  reasoned  Mr.  Chaftan  with  himself,  and,  bowing  and 
smiling,  he  said  to  Mr.  Marks  that  he  would  take  great 
pleasure  in  seeing  him  at  his  house  at  any  time.  A 
special  invitation  soon  followed,  and  young  Mr.  Marks 
was  a  constant  visitor  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Chaftan. 

Many  were  the  conjectures  of  the  acquaintances  of 
Mr.  Chaftan,  with  respect  to  the  signs  of  the  times. 
Marks  did  not  fill  the  eye  of  Eue;  but  she  soon  learned 
from  her  sage  father  that  the  silly  notions  of  women 
were  not  to  be  regarded,  and  the  objections  that  she 
found  to  Marks  were  not  worth  notice.  Though  he  has 
not  trained  his  goatee  with  taste,  nor  understands  the 
graceful  method  of  placing  his  cigar  between  his  teeth, 
and  cannot  talk  with  the  fluency  of  some  young  men, 
yet  the  five  thousand  pounds — there  is  reality.  Matters 
moved  on  for  some  time  rather  mysteriously,  so  far  as 
the  knowledge  of  the  neighbors  was  concerned;  yet  it 
so  turned  out  that  it  was  not  long  before  Miss  Eue 
Chaftan  and  Mr.  Marks  were  united  in  the  holy  estate 
of  matrimony,  and  Marks  considered  himself  the  hap- 
piest man  in  the  world.  The  husband  of  so  pure,  so 
lovely,  and  so  beautiful  a  creature  —  these  were  his 
waking  thoughts;  but  when  asleep  he  would  dream 
that  she  was  an  angel,  and  that  he  had  been  translated 
to  some  sunny  clime,  where  the  birds  always  sing,  and 
the  glory  of  spring  lasted  all  the  year.  But  the  time 
came  at  last  when  Marks  and  his  beloved  Eue  were  to 
go  home  and  make  themselves  acquainted  with  the 
more  stern  realities  of  life,  Eue  knowing  nothing  more 
13* 


298  DONOR   AND   THE   DITCHER. 

of  Marks's  condition,  all  the  while,  than  that  she  had 
heard  hints  from  her  father  of  five  thousand  pounds. 
When  they  were  approaching  the  small  habitation  of 
Marks,  Eue  asked,  with  more  than  ordinary  interest, 
"Is  this  your  house?"  "Yes,"  was  the  laconic  reply  of 
Marks.  "What!  that  little  hut?"  Marks  was  silent. 
By  this  time  the  door-way  was  passed,  and  Marks  and 
his  fair  bride  were  in  his  own  habitation.  Eue  cast  a 
hasty  glance  around  the  room,  and,  with  rather  a  won- 
dering look,  exclaimed  again,  "And  is  this  the  place  where 
you  expect  me  to  live?"  Marks,  with  a  low  and  subdued 
tone,  said,  "Yes,  my  love,  this  is  our  house." 

"  Do  n't  call  me  love!"  said  Eue;  "better  call  mo  your 
slave.  Where  are  your  servants,  your  drawing-room, 
your  chambers,  your  store-room,  your  garden  ?  And 
1  must  live  in  this  hut,  with  its  door  and  windows  as 
contracted  as  a  prison,  the  floor  as  cold  as  a  cellar,  the 
ceiling  crowded  down  on  one's  head,  no  carpet  on  the 
floor,  while  the  furniture  is  meager  and  out  of  date, 
and  poor  at  that!  And  have  I  come  to  this?"  and  burst- 
ing into  a  flood  of  tears,  she  fell  into  a  seat,  and  seemed 
almost  overcome  with  grief  and  anger. 

Poor  Marks  was  at  his  wits'  end.  A  crisis  had  come 
up  for  which  he  was  wholly  unprepared.  His  house, 
though  humble,  had  been  made  quite  comfortable  by 
various  repairs,  in  his  estimation;  and  what  to  say  or 
do  he  did  not  know.  Hour  after  hour  passed  away, 
and  still  Eue  continued  to  weep,  and  when  she  could 
be  provoked  to  speak,  it  was  only  some  such  expres- 
sions as,  "I  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass — housekeeper, 
cook,  washer-woman,  slave!  Eue  Chaftan! — yes,  Eue 
Chaftan!  What  could  my  father  have  been  thinking 
about?"  Her  indignation  here  seemed  to  claim  the 
ascendant,  and  turning  her  head  toward  her  confounded 


DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER.  299 

husband,  she  said,  "Marks,  or  whatever  your  name 
may  be,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  where  we  are 
to  lodge  a  friend?  Where  is  the  bed,  the  chamber?  and 
where  is  your  kitchen,  1  should  like  to  know?  And 
what  arrangement  is  made  for  an  evening  ride?  My 
parents  ought  to  have  waited  till  I  was  dead  before 
they  buried  me." 

Marks  tried  to  comfort  her  by  telling  her  that  he 
would  take  upon  himself  the  laborious  part  of  the 
work  about  the  house;  and  as  there  were  but  two  of 
them,  it  would  not  require  much  to  support  them,  and 
they  could  live  in  hope  of  better  days.  With  this  he 
began  to  prepare  something  for  his  beloved  and  heart- 
broken Rue  to  eat.  He  made  a  little  tea  and  prepared 
some  toast;  yet  with  all  his  persuasion  he  could  not 
prevail  on  her  to  take  a  particle;  but,  continuing  to 
weep  until  she  was  overcome,  she  fell  into  a  troubled 
sleep.  Now  Marks  had  time  to  think,  and  while  he  sat 
near  her,  and  looked  upon  her  troubled  face,  and  heard 
the  sigh  that  broke  away  from  her  heart,  and  contem- 
plated her  flowing  robes,  her  delicate  white  hand  set 
with  rings,  and  her  light  and  fairy  form,  he  was  forced 
to  the  conviction  that  whatever  might  have  been  the 
designs  of  nature  with  regard  to  her,  she  certainly  was 
not  suited  to  the  kind  of  life  which  she  would  have  to 
live  to  be  his  wife;  and  though  he  loved  her,  yet  it  was 
evident  that  he  had  made  a  capital  blunder,  and  the 
advice  of  Donor  came  upon  his  mind  with  great  force. 
"I  ought  to  have  thought  of  something  else  besides 
presiding  at  the  head  of  my  table  while  guests  were  at 
my  house,  and  the  trifling  affair  of  light  conversation. 
What  a  fool  I  was  that  I  did  not  think  of  sweeping, 
scouring,  washing,  cooking!  and  farther,  that  I  had  no 
means  of  procuring  fine  robes  and  carriages.  But 


300  DONOR   AND   THE    DITCHER. 

this  was  all  overlooked.  I  could  have  found  among 
those  in  humbler  life  a  pretty  face,  a  pure  heart,  and  a 
sound  mind — one  who  would  have  loved  me  and  thought 
this  house  a  comfortable  home;  and  while  I  would 
have  borne  my  portion  of  the  cares  and  trials  of  life, 
she  -would  cheerfully  have  borne  hers,  and  we  would 
have  mutually  labored  for  and  loved  each  other.  But 
it  is  too  late  to  think  of  these  things  now;  I  shall  try 
to  learn  of  her,  when  she  awakes  from  her  slumbers, 
what  would  satisfy  her  for  the  present,  and  when  I 
see  my  friend  Donor  I  shall  lay  the  case  before  him; 
because  my  own  wants,  which  he  has  promised  to 
supply,  are  now  the  wants  of  my  wife;  for  unless  a 
wife  loves  her  husband,  she  is  a  curse  instead  of  a 
blessing." 

Rue  at  last  awoke,  and  looking  around  her  with  the 
vacant  stare  of  a  maniac  for  a  moment,  sighed,  and 
said,  with  a  conquered  tone  of  voice,  "Well,  it  is  done, 
and  I  cannot  help  it."  This  state  of  despair  seemed  to 
give  him  more  pain  than  did  her  words  of  contempt; 
for  he  feared  the  effect  of  a  settled  melancholy.  He 
spoke  to  her  in  the  tenderest  tones,  and,  thinking  he  had 
gained  upon  her  feelings,  aimed  to  take  her  by  the  hand  ; 
but  she  recoiled  at  his  touch,  as  though  it  had  been 
that  of  a  serpent's,  and  withdrew  her  hand.  He  told 
her  that  he  had  a  friend  who,  without  fee  or  reward, 
would  help  him  when  he  had  absolute  need,  and  as  his 
wants  were  hereafter  to  be  the  wants  of  his  wife,  if 
she  would  but  tell  him  what  she  at  present  most  de- 
sired, he  would  try  and  get  that  desire  gratified.  To 
this  she  replied  by  saying,  "If  I  have  to  live  with 
you,  I  want  some  place  to  live  in,  and  not  in  this  dun- 
geon." 

On  that  night,  at  eleven  o'clock,  Donor  paid  him  a 


DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER.  301 

visit.  He  wished  him  the  happiness  common  to  those 
who  have  recently  connected  themselves  in  marriage. 
Hue  had  by  this  time  sunk  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  Marks 
had  gently  raised  her  from  the  chair  and  laid  her  upon 
the  bed  without  awakening  her.  He  pointed  to  her, 
and  said  to  Donor,  "Speak  low;  I  do  not  wish  her  to 
be  aroused  from  her  slumber,  at  least  until  our  conver- 
sation shall  close." 

"What  ails  you?"  said  Donor;  "your  appearance  is 
that  of  one  in  deep  distress.  I  thought  to  have  found 
all  joy  and  gladness." 

"I  have  erred,  Donor,"  said  Marks,  "in  not  taking 
your  advice.  I  ought  to  have  married  a  woman  suited 
to  the  kind  of  life  which  the  wife  of  Marks  would  have 
to  live,  but  I  married  one  brought  up  to  a  life  of  ease  and 
pleasure,  who  in  every  thing  that  relates  to  the  reali- 
ties of  life  is  a  perfect  child.  Her  parents  taught  her 
neither  to  know  nor  to  do  any  thing  save  that  which 
belongs  to  fashion  and  amusement,  and  she  finds  her- 
self wholly  unprepared  for  her  present  position." 

"Fatal  error,"  said  Donor,  "with  but  too  many  silly 
parents  in  this  world,  who  train  up  their  children  like  a 
shade  plant.  Where  the  parents  have  fortunes  for 
their  children,  and  the  absolute  necessity  does  not 
exist  on  the  part  of  the  child  to  attend  to  the  rougher 
ends  of  labor,  it  is  an  easy  matter  to  leave  off  such 
things;  but  when  the  child  is  reared  iYi  idleness  and 
extravagance,  and  there  is  no  fortune  to  sustain  them 
in  such  a  course  of  life,  they  are  soon  or  late  thrown 
upon  the  world  utterly  helpless." 

"I  would  not  care,"  said  Marks,  "for  the  helpless- 
ness of  my  wife,"  pointing  to  the  bed,  "if  she  were 
only  satisfied  with  her  condition.  I  know  how  to  toil ; 
these  hands  have  wielded  the  spade  too  long  for  me  to 


302  DONOR   AND   THE    DITCHER. 

dread  labor.  "Willingly  would  I  take  upon  myself,  be- 
sides my  own  portion  of  labor,  all  the  rougher  service 
about  the  house,  if  she  would  only  be  happy,  and  love 
me.  But  the  error  in  her  education  is  double:  first, 
she  does  not  seem  to  think  that  love  can  exist  any- 
where but  in  a  fine  house;  and  in  the  next  place,  that 
labor  is  degrading.  Now,  Donor,  you  see  my  condi- 
tion: I  have  a  wife,  and  she  does  not  love  me;  without 
her  love  I  am  a  miserable  man.  Her  last  intimation 
before  falling  asleep  was  that  if  she  was  to  live  with 
me  she  must  have  a  house  to  live  in.  Now,  is  it  not 
necessary  for  me  to  have  a  fine  house?" 

"It  would  seem  so,"  said  Donor;  "but  I  am  not  will- 
ing that  you  should  spend  any  more  on  this  rented 
room;  you  had  better  purchase  one  already  built  So 
here  are  three  thousand  pounds;  and  you  will  find  in 
the  city  of  N.,  street  L,  No.  102,  a  very  lovely  build- 
ing for  sale.  Go,  on  to-morrow,  you  and  your  wife; 
let  her  taste  be  consulted,  and  if  she  like  the  house, 
purchase  it.  Here  is  also  one  pound  more,  which  will 
procure  a  conveyance." 

At  this  Donor  took  leave.  Marks  sat  by  her  bedside 
till  morning.  When  she  awoke  she  seemed  a  little 
better  composed,  though  her  sleep  had  been  greatly 
troubled  by  feverish  dreams.  Her  countenance  was 
pale,  and  her  eyes  languishing.  He  told  her  that  he 
had  a  present  for  her,  and  showed  her  the  check  for 
three  thousand  pounds,  which  his  good  angel  had  fur- 
nished him  during  the  night,  to  buy  her  a  fine  house; 
and  that  the  fine  new  building,  No.  102  L  street,  was 
for  sale,  and  that  if  she  should  be  pleased  with  it,  it 
would  be  theirs  before  sunset.  She  said  it  was  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  residences  in  the  city,  of  the  latest 
style,  and  that  she  admired  it  when  in  course  of  erection. 


DONOR    AND   THE   DITCHER.  303 

"And  that  is  going  to  be  ours,  is  it,  dear?"  she  said, 
and  smiled,  and  kissed  him.  The  sun  was  about  rising, 
and  truly  it  was  sunrise  to  his  poor  heart;  for,  though 
he  pitied,  he  tenderly  loved  her.  Some  breakfast  was 
prepared  by  himself,  which  he  thought  no  hardship: 
and  Rue  now  partook  with  him,  which  refreshed  her 
very  much,  and  she  complimented  him  considerably  for 
being  a  good  cook.  He  soon  procured  a  cab,  and  a  ride 
of  two  miles  brought  them  to  the  contemplated  resi- 
dence, which  being  just  completed,  and  built  with  an 
eye  to  taste  and  convenience,  looked  beautiful.  Rue 
ran  up  and  down  the  stair-way  and  through  the  rooms 
with  a  joyous  heart  and  buoyancy  of  spirits,  which 
would  have  led  one  to  suppose  that  she  had  never 
tasted  of  grief,  and  did  not  know  what  tears  meant. 
The  house  was  purchased,  and  arrangements  made  forth- 
with to  move  to  it,  and  having  but  little  to  remove,  it 
was  soon  accomplished;  and  the  pound  handed  him  by 
Donor  was  sufficient  to  pay  the  expense  of  removing. 
But  just  so  soon  as  they  were  settled  in  their  new 
home,  other  and  new  difficulties  presented  themselves. 
Rue  wished  to  know  where  the  furniture  was  to  come 
from  for  their  new  house;  that  she  could  not  see  what 
use  there  could  be  in  a  fine  house  unless  it  was  fur- 
nished, and  Marks  had  to  acknowledge  that  his  little 
bed,  second-rate  armoire,  and  common  chairs,  made  but 
a  poor  show  in  the  new  house;  and  he  longed  for  Donor 
to  return,  that  he  might  lay  this  matter  before  him; 
and,  in  despite  of  all  that  he  could  do,  Rue  became  quite 
unhappy  again,  in  looking  at  the  naked  walls  and 
empty  rooms.  But  at  length  Donor  came,  and  Marks 
hastened  to  lay  the  subject  before  him,  telling  him  the 
happy  effect  it  had  on  the  spirits  of  Rue  when  they  got 
to  their  new  house,  until  she  discovered  that  he  had 


304  DONOR  AND   THE   DITCHER. 

nothing  to  furnish  it  with;  "for  though  I  thought  my 
furniture  was  sufficient  for  the  room  I  occupied,"  said 
Marks,  "yet  it  makes  worse  than  no  impression  on  this 
fine  house.  Indeed,  Eue  says  that  she  does  not  know 
that  she  can  make  any  use  of  such  stuff." 

Donor  readily  agreed  that  there  should  always  be  a 
fitness  in  things,  and  that  the  furniture  should  be  in 
keeping  with  the  house;  "and  by  the  time  I  shall  come 
again."  said  he,  "vou  will  make  out  a  bill  of  the  arti- 

O  '  •» 

cles  necessary,  and  then  I  will  furnish  you  the  means 
to  pay  for  them."  And  Donor  took  his  leave. 

Marks  was  not  long  in  laying  the  matter  before  Eue, 
but  reminded  her  of  the  conditions  upon  which  he  re- 
ceived favors  from  Donor,  and  cautioned  her  to  take 
care  that  she  did  not  require  more  than  was  absolutely 
necessary.  With  these  conditions  apparently  fairly  un- 
derstood, she  commenced  making  out  the  bill.  "Well, 
in  the  first  place,  this  house  must  be  carpeted  down 
stairs  and  up." 

"What  is  the  use,"  said  Marks,  "of  carpeting  the 
whole  house,  when  there  are  but  two  of  us?" 

"But  two  of  us,  indeed!  People  who  live  in  as  fine  a 
house  as  this  will  be  sure  to  have  company.  And  if 
some  of  my  friends  were  to  call  on  me,  I  should  die 
with  mortification  to  have  to  put  them  in  an  uncar- 
peted  room.  The  rooms  have  to  be  carpeted,  and  it  is 
useless  to  spend  any  more  words  on  that  point;  and  as 
to  the  quality,  we  will  make  three-ply  answer  for  the 
chambers,  but  the  parlors  must  be  Brussels.  The 
chambers  must  be  furnished  all  alike.  Let  us  make 
out  the  furniture  for  one  room,  then  it  will  be  easy  to 
compute  the  amount.  Well,  first,  a  mahogany  bed- 
stead, with  furniture  suitable  to  winter  and  summer, 
wash-stand,  press,  dressing-bureau,  armoire,  and  six 


DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER.          305 

chairs,  together  with  a  carpet.  Other  smaller  matters 
we  will  attend  to  after  awhile.  Now,  there  are  five  of 
them,  and  you  can  easily  estimate  what  they  will  cost. 
Now  for  the  parlors.  Well,  these  blocks  between  the 
windows  were  intended  for  mirrors;  and  unless  you 
get  them  of  sufficient  size  to  fill  the  blocks,  the  rooms 
will  always  look  unfinished.  Then,  near  the  sliding- 
doors  there  must  be  a  center-table  and  lamp.  On 
the  mantels  there  must  be  gondolas,  and  in  the  hall 
there  must  be  a  chandelier.  Then,  there  will  have  to 
be  four  sofas,  eight  ottomans,  two  divans,  four  easy- 
chairs,  one  reception-chair,. with  two  sets  of  the  regu- 
lar size.  The  sofas,  ottomans,  divans,  and  chairs, 
should  all  be  of  plush  or  cut  velvet,  and  I  think  royal 
purple  would  be  a  beautiful  color.  O!  I  had  like  to 
have  forgotten  the  door-bell  and  plate,  with  the  neces- 
sary engraving,  which  is  very  important.  Now,  what 
shall  we  have  in  the  hall?  let  me  sec — a  hat-rack,  set- 
tees, and  suitable  mats.  Now,  none  of  these  can  be 
dispensed  with." 

On  the  return  of  Donor  the  bill  was  laid  before  him, 
and  though  he  seemed  to  think  that  it  was  rather  a 
large  one,  yet  he  gave  a  draft  for  the  amount;  and 
while  they  were  visiting  the  warerooms  and  stores,  and 
having  the  various  articles  carried  home,  and  each  put 
in  its  place,  Hue  seemed  to  be  perfectly  happy;  and 
every  thing  considered,  this  was  a  happy  week,  though 
Marks  had  to  act  the  part  of  housekeeper  and  cook. 
But  the  furniture  was  not  more  than  stored  away  by 
the  upholsterer,  when  Eue  discovered  that  there  were 
many  things  overlooked.  There  was  no  suitable  cook- 
ing apparatus,  no  table  nor  table-furniture  suitable  to 
such  a  house.  "And  even  if  we  had  these  things," 
said  Rue,  "T  should  like  to  know  who  is  to  cook,  and 


306  DONOR   AND   THE    DITCHER. 

keep  this  house  in  order.  I  hope,  Mr.  Marks,  that  you 
do  not  think  that  your  wife  is  to  attend  to  these  things. 
Who  is  to  entertain  your  company,  I  should  like  to 
know?  You  see  that  we  must  have  servants  and  those 
other  things  that  I  have  mentioned." 

As  a  new  class  of  wants  presented  themselves,  Marks, 
in  his  turn,  became  thoughtful;  for  he  had  drawn  so 
heavily  on  Donor  that  he  feared  the  consequences  of  a 
new  demand.  But  something  had  to  be  done.  His 
weekly  supply  also  was  only  contemplated  for  one;  and 
as  from  the  time  he  commenced  visiting  the  house  of 
Mr.  Chaftan  he  had  ceased  to  spend  evenings  else- 
where, and  as  his  visits  there  did  not  cost  him  any 
thing,  the  little  saving  in  that  way  had  enabled  him  to 
keep  up.  But  now  his  weekly  stores  were  out,  and,  as 
he  had  not  had  a  spade  in  his  hand  from  the  date  of 
his  marriage,  something  must  be  done;  and  what  to  do 
he  did  not  know,  but  concluded  he  would  bring  the 
whole  affair  before  Donor,  on  his  next  visit.  So  Donor, 
on  his  return,  instead  of  finding  Marks  happy,  as  ho  ex- 
pected, with  his  new  house  finely  furnished,  saw  that  he 
was  in  great  trouble.  Donor  inquired  after  the  cause 
of  this  distress.  Marks  said  to  him,  "My  dear  Donor, 
permit  me  now  to  explain  to  you  my  condition.  JNot- 
withstanding  we  have  a  fine  house,  well  furnished  to 
the  eye,  yet  the  means  of  support  are  wanting.  We 
have  no  stores,  nothing  to  cook,  and  no  person  to  cook 
any  thing  if  we  had  provision — no  suitable  table  or  ta- 
ble-furniture; and  you  remember  that  the  appropria- 
tion made  to  me  was  but  for  one,  and  even  then  a  part 
of  my  weekly  supply  was  the  reward  of  my  labor;  and 
since  I  was  married  I  have  not  had  a  spade  in  my  hand, 
and  ichat  am  I  to  do  about  ditching  now?"  Here  Marks 
seemed  to  be  embarrassed,  and  turned  away  his  head. 


DONOR  AND   THE   DITCHER.  307 

"Can  you  not  find  employment  in  ditching  any 
longer?"  said  Donor. 

"That  is  not  the  difficulty,"  said  Marks.  "I  could 
find  employment,  but — but  Mrs.  Marks " 

"What  about  Mrs.  Marks?"  said  Donor. 

"Mrs.  Marks  does  not  even  know  that  I  ever  was  a 
ditcher,  and  has  more  than  once  asked  me  what  so 
many  spades  were  doing  about  the  house,  and  I  was 
afraid  to  tell  her.  I  went  so  far  as  to  ask  her,  at  one 
time,  how  she  would  like  to  be  the  wife  of  a  ditcher, 
and  her  answer  was  that  ditcher's  daughters  ought  to 
be  ditcher's  wives;  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  it 
would  break  her  heart  to  think  that  she  was  the  wife  of 
a  ditcher.  What  to  do,  I  cannot  tell.  I  know  no  other 
business  but  that  of  ditching,  and  yet,  there  is  a  vast 
disagreement  between  that  business  and  the  taste  of 
Mrs.  Marks;  and  farther,  dear  Donor,  the  appearance 
of  this  house,  and  the  style  in  which  it  would  seem  we 
ought  to  live,  would  not  agree  with  the  business  of 
ditching." 

"Here,"  said  Donor,  "is  another  evidence  of  the  un- 
happy effect  of  one  leading  error;  but  the  deed  is  done. 
But  are  you  sure,  Marks,  that  your  wife  would  oppose 
your  continuance  in  your  honest  vocation?" 

"O  I  am  quite  sure  she  would!  It  would  kill  her 
with  shame!  For,  more  than  once,  when  we  have  been 
speaking  of  the  society  that  we  should  associate  with 
after  we  should  become  fairly  settled,  she  has  given  me 
clearly  to  understand  that  it  would  not  do  for  us  to  be 
even  known  to  mechanics,  or  the  laboring  classes;  and 
I  am  certain  that  she  could  not  be  induced  to  regard 
them  as  visitors.  You  have  heard,  Donor,  of  the  match 
between  Miss  Brittle  and  Baff,  the  shoemaker.  He 
had  made  considerable  money  by  his  trade,  but  his 


308  DONOR   AND   THE    DITCHER. 

wife  would  not  hear  of  his  following  it  any  longer  after 
their  marriage,  and  he  turned  merchant.  But,  poor 
fellow!  not  understanding  the  business,  I  am  told,  he 
has  spent  all  that  he  had  made  by  his  trade,  and  that 
they  are  in  a  fair  way  to  come  to  poverty.  But  they 
had  no  Donor  to  look  to,  and  you  know  that  women 
will  have  their  little  notions,  and  it  is  useless  to  oppose 
them." 

"Well,  Marks,  you  will  have  to  make  the  best  you 
can  of  your  condition.  You  can  become  an  under- 
taker, and  that  will  give  you  employment;  and  the 
ladies  do  not  know  generally  what  it  means.  So  you 
can  give  your  wife  such  an  understanding  of  the  matter 
as  will  best  suit  you.  I  will  give  you  such  an  appro- 
priation as  your  circumstances  require — four  servants, 
besides  the  cook,  with  such  things  pertaining  to  your 
kitchen  and  table  as  are  necessary,  and  triple  your 
weekly  allowance,  and  something  for  your  servants." 

The  servants  were  obtained,  the  fixtures  were  all  in 
their  place,  and  Marks  for  a  time  thought  that  his 
wants  were  supplied,  and  a  few  quiet  daj^s  passed  over 
his  head.  But  it  was  not  long  before  they  were  invited 
out  to  spend  an  evening  with  one  of  the  fashionables 
of  the  city.  After  they  had  determined  on  going  to 
the  party,  Mrs.  Marks  told  her  husband  that  if  he  ex- 
pected her  to  go  with  him,  there  were  two  or  three 
things  that  had  to  be  done:  "You  are  to  get  clear  of 
those  low-heeled,  flat-bottomed  shoes  of  yours,"  said 
she;  "and  I  am  heartily  tired  of  that  bell-crowned  hat; 
and  you  will  either  have  to  get  you  a  new  pair  of 
trousers,  or  put  straps  to  those  that  you  have,  for  how 
would  your  wife  feel  to  see  her  husband  in  company 
with  his  trousers  flying  up  halfway  to  his  knees  every 
stop?  And  then  that  coat  of  yours  is,  by  about  one 


DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER.          309 

foot,  too  short  in  the  waist;  it  makes  your  body  look 
so  short,  and  your  legs  so  long,  that  when  you  are 
walking  about  I  am  all  the  time  reminded  of  a  pair  of 
tongs;  and  unless  you  will  make  these  changes,  I  can- 
not be  recognized  among  the  fashionables  as  your  wife — 
though,  indeed,  there  will  be  no  necessity  of  any  recog- 
nition of  each  other  there.  In  fact,  a  man  is  not  expected 
to  attend  to  his  own  wife  at  such  a  place;  and  I  will 
no  doubt  have  attention  enough  from  other  gentlemen 
on  the  occasion.  Yet,  lest  I  should  bo  called  on  to  in- 
troduce you  to  some  of  my  acquaintances,  it  will  be 
important  that  these  changes  be  made.  And  permit 
me,  while  I  am  on  the  subject  of  dress,  to  say  to  you 
that  your  wife  would  be  the  better  of  a  few  ai'ticles. 
I  had  an  abundant  supply  when  we  were  married;  but 
one  should  keep  up  with  the  times,  and  as  the  season 
is  changing,  I  shall  have  need  of  a  muff  and  visite, 
with  several  other  articles." 

Marks  saw  that  he  was  mistaken  in  supposing  that 
his  wants  were  supplied,  and  he  again  wished  for  the 
return  of  Donor.  Donor,  at  the  appointed  time,  made 
his  appearance,  and,  after  duly  considering  the  demands 
of  Marks,  granted  the  requests;  anfl  Marks  soon  ap- 
peared in  a  new  suit — made  with  an  eye  to  the  latest 
fashions — and  at  the  appointed  time  Mr.  Marks  and 
lady  were  seen  at  the  party.  Marks  could  not  so  well 
understand  why  it  should  be  thought  wrong  that  a 
man  should  be  seen  even  in  the  same  room  with  his 
wife;  but  he  resolved  it  all  into  this,  that  there  is  no 
accounting  for  fashion. 

So  matters  moved  on  till  spring;  then  various  wants 
presented  themselves:  extra  appropriations  to  the  pro- 
vision stores,  as  parties  had  to  be  given;  a  carriage, 
horses,  etc.  These,  too,  were  all  granted  by  Donor. 


310  DOXOR   AND   THE  DITCHER. 

But  when  summer  came,  and  the  fashionables  were 
leaving  the  city,  going  to  their  country-seats  and  wa- 
tering-places, Eue  became  dissatisfied,  and  talked  con- 
tinually of  the  dullness  of  the  city,  and  the  oppressive 
nature  of  the  heat;  and  that  any  man  who  did  not 
want  his  wife  to  die  ought  to  procure  a  country-seat 
for  summer;  and  she  became  desponding  and  unhappy. 
Marks  found  life  a  burden  to  him,  and  he  concluded  to 
lay  this  matter  before  Donor  also,  which  he  did  on 
Donor's  return.  After  long  consultation,  Donor  con- 
cluded to  furnish  Marks  with  a  summer  residence, 
whereupon  the  establishment  was  procured,  with  all 
the  fixtures  necessary  to  make  it  both  beautiful  and 
comfortable,  and  Marks  and  lady  moved  to  it,  and  for 
some  weeks  their  wants  seemed  to  be  supplied. 

But  there  was,  in  the  neighborhood  of  this  fine  coun- 
try-seat, the  humble  habitation  of  a  poor  peasant, 
whose  unpretending  building  obstructed  the  view  a 
little  in  one  direction  from  the  residence  of  Mr.  Marks, 
which  became  an  eye-sore  to  Rue.  She  insisted  that 
the  peasant  should  be  removed;  "for,"  she  said,  "my 
dear  husband,  who  knows  but  some  person  may  take 
that  poor  old  man  and  his  wife  to  be  our  relatives; 
such  a  thing  you  know  would  be  very  afflicting;  and  I 
cannot  enjoy  any  thing  until  that  old  house  and  the 
old  man  and  his  wife  are  removed."  And  Marks  him- 
self thought  it  was  a  pity  that  a  place  as  beautiful  as 
his  should  be  marred  by  such  an  old  hut  being  in  its 
neighborhood,  for  the  house  of  the  peasant  was  really 
in  sight  of  Mr.  Marks's;  and  he  promised  himself  that 
just  as  soon  as  he  should  see  Donor  he  would  submit 
the  subject  to  him.  Donor  was  pained,  on  his  return, 
to  find  Marks  still  dissatisfied;  and  after  inquiring^the 
cause.  Marks  told  him  that  the  country-seat  was  lovely 


DONOR  AND   THE   DITCHER.  311 

in  the  extreme,  with  this  exception,  "that  there  lives 
in  the  neighborhood,"  said  Marks,  "a  poor  old  peas- 
ant. The  house  is  mean-looking,  and  the  old  man  and 
his  wife  are  very  odd  in  their  appearance;  and  Mrs. 
Marks  has  taken  it  into  her  head  that  strangers  might 
take  it  into  their  heads  that  they  are  relatives  of  ours, 
and  that,  you  know,  would  be  unfortunate;  and  in 
order  that  happiness  and  contentment  may  exist  at 
our  house,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  remove  the 
peasant.  The  old  man  says  he  lives  there  through  the 
kindness  of  a  friend,  and  has  the  privilege  of  cultivat- 
ing a  few  acres  of  ground,  and  the  use  of  the  house,  as 
long  as  he  lives,  and  seems  to  be  quite  contented;  but 
I  think  the  old  man  ought  to  be  made  to  go  away." 

"I  shall  give  you  no  answer  now;  but  you  will  go  to 
the  city  to-morrow,  at  four  o'clock  P.M.,  and  call  at  the 
banker's  exchange,  and  inquire  for  Levi,  the  banker." 
At  the  appointed  time  Marks  was  at  the  exchange,  and 
on  inquiry  for  Mr.  Levi,  the  banker,  was  ushered  into 
what  seemed  a  private  reading-room,  and  into  the 
presence  of  a  tall  old  gentleman,  near  threescore  and 
ten,  and  though  his  locks  were  white,  yet  when  ho 
arose  to  meet  Marks,  he  was  as  straight  as  a  youth,  and 
his  step  seemed  still  to  be  as  elastic  as  a  boy's.  He  was 
wearing  a  plain  black  suit,  with  a  pair  of  spectacles 
pushed  up  on  his  brow,  and  a  pen  run  through  his 
white  locks  and  resting  on  the  top  of  his  car. 

"Be  seated,  Mr.  Marks,"  said  Mr.  Levi. 

Marks  took  his  seat,  but  could  not  conceive  how  Mr. 
Levi  came  in  possession  of  his  name;  neither  could  ho 
imagine  why  Donor  should  have  sent  him  to  Mr.  Levi, 
unless  it  was  that  this  banker  was  to  have  something 
to  do  in  raising  the  funds  necessary  to  remove  the 
peasant,  as  he  recollected  to  have  seen  his  name  onco 


312  DONOR   AND   THE   DITCHER. 

in  some  way  connected  with  a  check  given  him  by 
Donor.  Levi  soon  brought  him  right  in  his  reckon- 
ings, by  relating  as  follows:  "Do  you  remember,  Mr. 
Marks,  some  time  since,  of  having  rescued  an  individ- 
ual from  the  robbers  who  had  turned  his  carriage  down 
a  bank,  and  were  dragging  him  from  it  to  murder  and 
rob  him?" 

"I  remember  it,"  said  Marks. 

"I  am  the  individual,"  said  Levi,  "and  I  am  also 
Donor;  and  believing  as  I  did,  and  do  now  believe,  that 
you  were  the  means  of  saving  my  life,  and  at  the  same 
time,  from  possession  by  the  robbers,  a  large  sum  of 
money  which  was  then  upon  my  person,  I  determined 
at  once  to  reward  you  handsomely,  and  for  that  pur- 
pose asked  your  name  and  place  of  residence.  I  have 
ever  since  traveled  at  night  disguised  by  the  mask  of  a 
young  man.  I  have  now  bestowed  upon  you  much 
more  than  a  competency,  notwithstanding  you  have 
long  since  violated  the  contract  which  we  first  made. 
But  if  I  had  found  you  worthy,  I  still  should  have  re- 
mained unknown  to  you,  and  should  have  continued 
to  honor  your  drafts;  but  I  find  you  unworthy,  and 
I  shall  bestow  no  more  favors  upon  you.  I  bore  with 
your  extravagances  and  weaknesses  until  I  saw  that 
you  were  capable  of  oppression.  The  old  peasant 
of  whom  you  complain  is  a  friend  of  God,  arid  of  his 
country,  and  of  mine.  I  am  also  his  Donor,  and  his 
apparent  condition  would  have  been  much  better  long 
ago  if  he  had  accepted  my  proffered  assistance;  but 
his  humble  cottage,  a  few  acres  of  land,  a  horse,  and 
a  cow,  are  all  that  he  would  ever  consent  to  receive 
from  me.  He  takes  a  manly  pride,  old  as  he  is,  in 
supporting  himself  and  old  lady  by  his  own  labor,  and 
withal  he  is  truly  a  happy  man.  I  have  often  heard 


DONOR    AND    THE    DITCHER.  313 

him  say  that  between  his  garden  and  Bible  he  finds 
both  employment  and  pleasure.  I  visit  him  often,  but 
not  with  the  expectation  of  bestowing  any  thing  upon 
him,  but  to  receive,  for  he  never  fails  to  bestow  upon 
me  his  blessing;  and  I  have  spent  the  happiest  moments 
of  my  life  with  the  old  people,  while  attending  to  their 
evening  devotions;  and  a  thousand  times  and  one  have 
they  paid  me  in  prayers  and  blessings  for  the  little 
that  I  have  bestowed  upon  them;  and  as  to  my  part,  I 
should  be  proud  to  claim  the  kind  old  man  and  his 
wife  as  my  relatives.  And  yet  you  desire  that  they 
should  now,  in  their  helpless  old  age,  be  driven  from 
their  quiet  little  home,  and  be  houseless,  possibly,  the 
remnant  of  their  days,  just  because  their  humble  dwell- 
ing can  be  seen  from  your  proud  mansion,  or  lest  some 
stranger  should  mistake  them  for  your  relative's. 

"N"ow,  Mr.  Marks,  believing  as  I  do  that  you  have 
already  more  than  you  can  be  safely  trusted  with,  I 
shall  divide  what  is  in  your  possession  between  you 
and  the  peasant,  having  yet  full  powers  over  the  deeds 
and  transfers;  and  though  the  peasant  of  whom  you 
speak  (blessed  old  man  of  God!)  does  not  wish  it,  yet 
he  has  a  poor  widowed  daughter,  with  several  children, 
of  whom  I  have  often  heard  him  speak  with  great  ten- 
derness; so  that  what  I  bestow  upon  him  will,  after 
awhile,  reach  the  helpless  lot  of  the  widowed  daughter; 
and  I  will  farther  say  to  you  that  I  shall  no  longer 
honor  your  drafts,  so  that  you  will  have  to  adopt  means 
for  your  support.  But  before  we  part  to  meet  no  more, 
let  me  mention  a  few  of  your  faults,  or  at  least  errors: 
First,  when  your  circumstances  became  a  little  im- 
proved, you  forsook  your  old  friends;  next,  you  becaino 
ashamed  of  your  honest  calling;  farther,  you  sought 
the  gratification  of  your  passions  and  appetites,  instead 
14 


314          DONOR  AND  THE  DITCHER. 

of  improving  the  condition  of  your  heart  and  head; 
next,  you  erred  in  the  selection  of  a  wife,  in  doing 
which,  instead  of  being  directed  by  sound  judgment 
and  common  sense,  you  followed  the  dictates  of  a  dis- 
eased imagination  and  false  pride,  and  took  a  wife  from 
a  circle  of  society  of  which  you  knew  nothing;  the 
consequence  has  been  that  your  wife  was  every  way 
unsuitable,  and  the  connection  an  unhappy  one;  for 
Mrs.  Marks  has  been  miserable  herself,  and  any  thing 
but  a  blessing  to  you.  Her  faults  are  justly  chargea- 
ble, to  a  great  extent,  upon  her  weak,  vain,  misguided 
parents,  from  whom  she  received  her  defective  educa- 
tion ;  though  I  do  not  like  to  speak  of  her  sex  unless  I 
can  speak  in  their  praise.  Another  mark  of  improper 
principles  on  your  part  is  this,  that  notwithstanding 
your  demands  have  been  numerous,  and  sometimes 
heavy,  yet  you  have  never  felt  that  you  were  able,  or 
even  in  need  of  any  thing,  to  give  to  the  starving  poor. 
And  finding  that  my  efforts  to  bless  you  have  all  failed, 
seeing  that  desire  is  the  parent  of  your  opinions  and 
wants,  and  that  your  desires  are  not  directed  by  wis- 
dom, but  by  morbid  passions,  I  shall  bestow  no  more 
favors  upon  you;  I  am  your  Donor  no  longer.  But  all 
the  rest  of  your  faults  might  have  been  borne  by  me, 
if  it  had  not  been  that  I  found  you  capable,  by  means  of 
your  resources,  and  ready,  to  oppress  the  virtuous  poor. 
Power  should  never  be  given  to  those  who  will  employ 
it  in  oppression.  So  here,  Marks,  we  part."  And  as  the 
good  Donor  reached  forth  his  hand  to  him  for  the  last 
time,  and  the  word  "farewell"  was  trembling  on  his 
lips,  Marks  saw  a  tear  swim  around  his  eye,  while  his 
last  words  were,  "May  you  yet  see  happier  days!" 

The  weekly  meetings  of  Donor  and  Marks  were  now 
at  an  end.     Marks,  with  deep  sorrow,  and  a  wiser  if 


THE   ALPINE   HUNTER.  315 

not  a  better  man,  now  returned  to  his  Eue,  and  at  once 
determined  to  tell  her  all  about  their  condition,  and 
that  they  would  have  to  adopt  some  measure  within 
themselves  for  their  weekly  supplies,  and  that  their  es- 
tate would  have  to  be  equally  divided  between  them- 
selves and  the  old  peasant.  From  this  hour  the  spirits 
of  Eue  were  broken.  She  went  no  more  into  society, 
and  bitterly  reproached  herself  for  ever  having  mar- 
ried at  all.  Her  loss  of  spirits  soon  destroyed  her 
health,  and  it  was  not  long  till  she  sank  into  the  grave. 
Marks  ever  after  lamented  the  blunders  of  his  life. 
He  became  a  restless  wanderer  upon  the  earth.  When 
last  seen,  his  locks  were  white,  and  sorrows  and  cares 
had  plowed  deep  furrows  upon  his  brow;  and  though 
conscious  of  the  many  errors  of  his  past  life,  yet,  as  he 
said,  it  was  too  late  to  repair  them,  while  his  motto 
was,  "No  matter  what  changes  may  come  up  in  the 
life  of  the  ditcher,  he  will  never  be  ashamed  of  his 
spade."  1848- 


THE  ALPINE  HUNTER. 

WHY  it  is  that  the  religious  world  has  almost  with 
general  consent  agreed  that  those  things  connected 
with  love  and  marriage  should  be  excluded  from  relig- 
ious periodicals,  is  to  me  a  matter  of  surprise.  We  are 
allowed  to  write  and  publish  as  much  as  we  please  on 
the  subjects  of  commerce,  agriculture,  mechanics,  the 
fine  arts,  literature,  and  politics;  and,  in  fact,  almost 
every  thing  is  found  in  religious  journals  except  the 
subjects  referred  to;  when  there  is  no  act  in  the  life  of 
an  irreligious  person  which  is  more  praiseworthy  and 
Christian-like  than  to  unite,  in  a  suitable  manner,  in 


316  THE   ALPINE   HUNTER. 

the  holy  estate  of  matrimony;  and  why  it  should  be 
looked  upon  as  unsuitable  to  religions  journals  I  am 
unable  to  tell.  There  is  no  act  of  human  life,  save  the 
preparation  of  the  soul  for  death  and  the  judgment,  of 
so  much  interest  as  that  of  marriage.  The  sacred  his- 
torian thought  it  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  him 
in  giving  a  full  account  of  the  manner  by  which  Isaac 
was  enabled  to  call  the  lovely  Eebecca  his  bride.  I  am 
disposed  to  think  that  all  subjects  of  interest  to  man- 
kind should  be  admitted  into  public  journals.  I  shall 
send  out  this  story  with  but  two  objects  —  first,  to 
gratify  the  curious,  as  the  history  of  the  hunter  is  an 
eventful  one;  secondly,  to  show  the  faithfulness  of  the 
female  heart.  Let  no  one  say  that  it  is  untrue,  or  with- 
out its  moral. 

Among  the  many  daring  acts  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte, 
who  was  one  of  this  world's  wonders,  and  the  scourge 
of  nations — who  may  be  compared  to  the  fearful  tor- 
nado which  rends  the  forest,  laying  bare  the  beds  of 
lakes  and  rivers,  overturning  towns  and  cities,  causing 
man  and  beast  to  tremble,  and  the  earth  to  groan  be- 
neath its  tread — I  say,  that  among  the  daring  acts  of 
this  great  man,  that  of  crossing  the  Alps,  with  an  im- 
mense army,  with  artillery  and  heavy  baggage,  was 
one  of  the  most  wonderful. 

After  he  had  conceived  the  plan,  he  sent  forth  an  ex- 
pedition, consisting  of  one  man,  to  make  a  survey,  if 
possible,  across  those  rocky  heights.  The  engineer, 
after  availing  himself  of  all  the  information  which  he 
could  obtain,  and  spending  considerable  time  in  the 
mountains,  returned  to  Napoleon  with  a  very  brief  re- 
port, which  was,  that  to  cross  the  Alps  as  ho  wished 
was  impossible.  The  answer  of  Napoleon  was  as  brief 
as  the  report— that  "impossible"  was  not  good  French, 


THE   ALPINE   HUNTER.  317 

and  that  he  might  stand  aside,  as  he  had  no  farther 
use  for  him. 

He  still  kept  his  army  in  motion,  advancing  daily  to- 
ward the  Alps,  which  were  already  beginning  to  frown 
upon  him.  His  method  of  obtaining  information  was 
to  acquire  it  from  hunters,  who  were  supposed  to  have 
a  more  correct  knowledge  of  the  mountains  than  other 
persons.  Already  quite  a  number  of  them  had  been 
called  upon,  and  each  and  all  gave  discouraging  ac- 
counts. Again  and  again  had  mention  been  made,  in 
the  hearing  of  Napoleon,  of  the  Alpine  Hunter.  While 
there  were  many  who  were  hunters,  there  was  one  who 
was  familiarly  known  as  the  Alpine  Hunter,  which  dis- 
tinction he  had  gained  by  his  superior  knowledge  of 
the  mountains  and  his  extraordinary  ability  to  possess 
himself  of  the  antelope,  ibex,  and  other  game,  which 
inhabited  those  regions.  Napoleon  ordered  a  detach- 
ment to  go  and  bring  the  Alpine  Hunter.  At  length 
the  habitation  of  this  notorious  hunter  was  pointed  out 
to  the  detachment,  high  up  the  Alps,  like  an  eagle's 
nest,  among  the  crags,  which  seemed  to  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  all  creation,  except  that  portion  blessed  with 
wings;  and  after  much  labor  and  toil  they  were  ena- 
bled to  find  the  narrow  and  intricate  passes  which  led 
to  this  lonely  abode,  built  as  it  were  among  the  clouds, 
having  as  neighbors  the  frowning  brows  of  ancient 
rocks,  the  eagle,  the  ibex,  the  wild  goat,  and  the  mount- 
ain storm.  The  detachment  came  suddenly  upon  him, 
and  surprised  him  in  his  bed.  The  hunter  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  rifle,  and  was  about  to  defend  himself; 
but  the  soldiers  said  they  were  peaceable,  and  that  they 
were  sent  by  Napoleon,  who  wished  to  be  favored  with 
his  presence.  In  a  few  moments  bolts  and  bars  were 
turned  and  fastened,  and  the  hunter's  habitation  was 


318  THE    ALPINE    HUNTER. 

left  as  lonely  as  the  rock  on  which  it  stood.  When  in 
the  presence  of  Napoleon,  the  latter  informed  him  that 
the  object  for  which  he  had  been  brought  was  that  he 
desired  to  pass  the  Alps  with  his  army,  with  artillery 
and  heavy  baggage,  and  wished  to  obtain  any  informa- 
tion which  he  might  be  able  to  give,  with  respect  to  a 
passage  through  those  heights.  The  hunter  stated  that 
there  were  but  two  persons  on  earth  who  would  be  able 
to  conduct  the  army  through  the  Alps;  one  was  an 
Arab,  who  was  likely  to  be  at  that  moment  somewhere 
on  the  deserts  of  Arabia,  and  the  other  was  himself. 
Napoleon  at  once  employed  him  as  a  guide.  When 
once  the  Alps  had  been  crossed,  and  the  army  safely 
encamped  in  the  plains  beyond,  Napoleon  had  the 
hunter  called  into  his  presence,  to  reward  him  for  his 
services,  and  to  permit  him  to  return  to  his  home  and 
his  country.  When  an  offer  of  a  rich  reward  was  made 
for  his  services,  he  declined  receiving  it,  and  manifested 
considerable  mortification  that  he  could  no  longer  be 
serviceable.  The  general,  much  pleased  with  his  prow- 
ess, intelligence,  and  noble  bearing,  offered  him  a  place 
in  the  army,  and  requested  that  he  would  share  with 
him  the  fortunes  of  war;  which  invitation  he  imme- 
diately accepted,  and  was  at  last  promoted  to  be  major 
of  artillery.  His  conduct  had  excited  considerable 
intei-est  among  the  officers  of  Napoleon.  To  one  of 
them  the  hunter  gave  the  following  account  of  his  past 
history,  which,  together  with  some  facts  connected  with 
his  subsequent  career,  I  shall  give  to  the  public  as 
nearly  in  his  very  language  as  I  can  recollect: 

"My  father  and  mother  were  Swiss.  I  was  the  only 
child  of  my  mother,  and  she  was  for  many  years  a 
widow.  My  father  died  when  I  was  about  ten  years  of 
age,  leaving  nothing  behind  him  to  support  his  helpless 


THE    ALPINE    HUNTER.  319 

family  save  the  proceeds  of  a  few  successful  hunts. 
My  father,  having  been  unsuccessful  in  business,  had 
settled  in  one  of  the  gorges  of  the  mountains,  in  order 
that  he  might  support  his  family  by  his  gun ;  but  not 
having  been  accustomed  to  the  chase  in  early  life,  he 
was  never  able  to  do  more  than  to  gain  for  his  family 
a  bare  support.  It  was  not  long  after  my  father's 
death  until  want  began  to  present  itself;  and  I  very 
soon  came  to  the  determination,  young  as  I  was,  to 
take  my  father's  gun  and  go  into  the  mountains,  and 
see  if  Providence  would  not  throw  something  in  my 
way,  so  that  I  might  save  my  mother  and  myself  from 
starvation.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  succeeded  beyond 
my  expectations,  and  the  day  never  came  that  found 
our  humble  habitation  without  meat:  and  by  the  sale 
of  the  proceeds  of  my  hunting  I  was  enabled  to  obtain 
other  articles  of  necessity,  and  in  a  few  years  some 
of  the  comforts,  and  at  times  even  the  luxuries  of  life; 
and  I  am  proud  to  say  that  the  last  days  of  my  mother 
were  her  brightest,  so  far  as  the  good  things,  of  this 
world  were  concerned,  and  would  have  been  her  hap- 
piest but  that  she  ever  felt  sorely  her  loss  in  the  death 
of  my  father.  I  did  all  I  could  to  bless  and  comfort 
her;  and  for  ten  years  and  more  after  the  death  of 
my  father  I  never  spent  a  single  night  anywhere  else 
but  under  our  lowly  roof,  unless  I  was  cut  off  from 
home  by  the  darkness  of  the  night,  by  being  belated 
in  the  mountain,  or  had  descended  into  the  vale  to 
make  sale  of  the  proceeds  of  the  chase;  for  it  was  some 
time  after  my  father's  death  before  I  was  enabled  to 
hire  a  servant,  to  aid  my  mother  in  household  affairs, 
and  to  keep  her  company  in  my  absence.  Her  health 
at  last  gave  way,  and  it  was  but  too  evident  that  she 
would  soon  sleep  beside  my  father.  Never  shall  I  for- 


320  THE    ALPINE    IIUNTER. 

get  the  evening  when  she  pointed  out  to  me  the  spot 
where  she  wished  her  dust  to  rest  in  hope  till  the  res- 
urrection of  the  just.  I  had  returned  from  my  wan- 
derings in  the  mountains;  the  sun  had  sunk  low  in  the 
west,  and  withdrawn  his  direct  rays  from  the  vales  and 
gorges,  but  was  shining  with  increased  splendor  upon 
the  tops  of  the  mountains,  as  an  affectionate  father 
parting  from  his  daughter  and  imprinting  on  her  brow 
burning  kisses.  We  walked  from  our  humble  dwelling 
(my  mother  leaning  on  my  arm)  to  the  grave  of  my 
father.  My  mother,  worn  with  years,  feeble  from  dis- 
ease, pale  and  trembling,  traced  with  her  own  hand 
upon  the  ground,  on  the  left  side  of  my  father's  grave, 
saying,  'Lay  me  here;  this  is  the  side  on  which  I  al- 
ways slept,  and  rested  my  head  in  the  hollow  of  his 
left  shoulder.'  Death  had  no  terrors  to  her;  her  soul 
was  fitted  for  its  passage  to  a  better  world  than  this ; 
and  the  grave  had  no  gloom,  since  her  dust  was  to 
mingle  with  the  dust  of  him  who  was  the  companion 
of  her  youth.  I  could  only  weep  while  I  saw  her  thus 
composedly  marking  the  spot  where  I  was  to  make  her 
bed  in  death;  and  our  poor  Louise,  our  only  servant, 
who  had  followed  us  to  the  spot,  wept  as  though  her 
heart  would  break;  for  she  was  not  only  the  servant  of 
my  mother,  but  her  daily  friend  and  companion.  After 
this  she  declined  rapidly,  and  nine  days  later  I  closed 
her  eyes  in  death.  When  my  mother  died  I  dismissed 
our  servant;  then  I  built  the  little  cell  in  which  you 
found  me,  and  determined  to  pass  my  days  in  the 
mountains. 

li  Those  who  have  never  lived  the  life  of  the  hunter 
know  nothing  of  its  excitement,  its  freedom,  and  I  may 
say,  its  independence.  Nature  was  my  flower-garden ; 
the  stormy  wind,  in  the  dark  and  gloomy  gorges  and 


THE   ALPINE  HUNTER.  321 

rocky  passes,  was  the  organ  that  made  me  music,  and, 
as  variations,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  listening  to  the  ava- 
lanches of  snow  and  ice,  when,  in  masses  like  mount- 
ains, they  would  break  away  from  some  lofty  steep,  and 
seek  a  resting-place  far  in  the  vales  below,  with  a  roar 
that  would  seem  to  fill  all  space  with  sound,  and  shake 
the  tops  of  the  mountains,  accompanied  with  a  pe- 
culiar kind  of  crash,  as  though  they  had  driven  in  the 
ribs  of  nature  and  riven  the  earth  asunder.  At  other 
times,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  I  would  topple  a  large 
mass  of  time-worn  rock  from  some  giddy  height,  and 
see  it  kindle  its  wrath  to  fury,  while  every  shrub  and 
tree,  and  even  rocks  that  were  ill  at  ease  in  their  beds, 
were  carried  downward  in  the  wake,  while  each  and 
all  would  gather  speed  as  they  went,  like  evil  spirits  on 
errands  of  vengeance.  I  have  studied  Nature  in  her 
first  edition,  drank  of  the  mountain  brook  at  its  source, 
plucked  flowers  from  stalks  which  had  never  been  trans- 
planted, and  breathed  an  atmosphere  that  was  as  pure 
as  nectar;  I  have  stood  upon  the  mountain's  most  lofty 
summit,  with  an  unclouded  sky  above  me,  and  the  sun 
shining  in  his  strength,  while  the  tornado  raged  far  be- 
low, and  spread  itself  out  like  a  level  lake  to  a  distance ; 
I  have  seen  the  lightning  sporting  through  the  storm, 
while  the  loud  thunder  rolled  along  the  vale,  or  bounded 
against  the  mighty  cliifs,  and  then,  like  some  giant 
warrior  overmatched  and  beaten  back,  would  sound  a 
retreat,  uttering  loud  complaints  as  though  it  had  re- 
ceived a  death-wound,  and  die  away  far  in  the  distance 
with  a  melancholy  moan.  Thus,  in  bold  relief  against 
the  sky,  I  have  stood,  and  knew  no  rival  save  the 
strong-winged  eagle  on  his  way  to  the  sun,  or  a  lost, 
bewildered  fleck  of  some  wrecked  and  rainless  cloud, 
and  looked  above  the  top  of  the  thoughts  of  the  men 
14* 


322  THE   ALPINE    HUNTER. 

of  the  world.  I  have  also  studied  the  habits  of  the 
game  which  I  pursued,  and  learned  their  hours  for  feed- 
ing and  repose,  so  that  search  for  them  was  seldom  un- 
successful ;  and  though  I  lived  alone,  yet  I  had  society 
when  I  wished  it.  With  the  hunters  I  was  always  on 
the  best  of  terms;  and  in  our  intercourse  there  was  an 
ease,  a  freshness — yea,  a  zest — of  which  the  dwellers  in 
the  vale  knew  nothing,  while  we  would  relate  to  each 
other  any  interesting  occurrence  in  the  chase;  and  he 
alone  knows  how  to  talk  and  to  listen  who  has  pos- 
sessed himself  of  the  light-footed  antelope,  or  bounded 
from  rock  to  rock,  or  pursued  from  cliff  to  cliff  the 
ibex  in  his  lofty  rambles. 

"Yet  there  are  moments  in  the  life  of  a  hunter  when 
he  may  be  said  to  be  alone.  To  move  softly  for  hours 
through  an  unbroken  wood,  where  no  human  tracks 
are  seen,  stopping  oft  and  looking  and  listening  for 
game,  you  become  at  last  so  perfectly  quiet  that  nature 
seems  to  hold  her  breath,  and  you  can  hear  the  beating 
of  your  pulse  throughout  your  entire  frame.  Yet  you 
are  not  entirely  alone:  at  length  an  ibex,  antelope,  or 
some  other  animal,  shows  itself  from  behind  a  rock  or 
tree;  in  a  moment  your  bead  is  drawn,  your  finger  is 
on  the  trigger,  the  sharp  crack  of  the  rifle  echoes  away 
along  the  vale  or  up  the  cliffs,  bringing  suddenly  to 
mind  home,  friends,  and  all  that  is  connected  with 
them.  In  another  moment  the  sound  has  died  away; 
then  it  is  that  loneliness  returns,  like  the  darkness 
that  succeeds  the  flash  of  lightning  at  midnight;  and, 
to  make  your  loneliness  complete,  your  gun  is  empty; 
for  a  hunter  is  never  alone  while  there  is  a  load  in  his 
gun. 

"But  notwithstanding  his  enjoyment  of  the  excite- 
ment of  the  chase,  and  of  the  wild  scenes  of  the  mount- 


THE    ALPINE    HUNTER.  323 

ain,  man  is  a  social  animal.  Adam  would  not  have 
been  perfectly  happy,  even  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  if 
God  had  not  made  Eve  to  share  life  with  him.  So  I 
began,  a  few  years  after  the  death  of  my  mother,  to 
frequent  the  vale,  and  that,  too,  when  I  did  not  go  alto- 
gether to  dispose  of  the  proceeds  of  the  chase.  At 
length  I  contracted  a  fondness  for  society,  and  espe- 
cially that  of  worthy  and  virtuous  females,  and  event- 
ually made  the  acquaintance  of  the  daughter  of  a 
worthy  citizen. 

"Lasaphene  De  La  Omo  was  an  only  child,  and  her 
parents  possessed  much  of  this  world's  goods.  I  soon 
found  that  her  society  had  become  essential  to  my  hap- 
piness, and  was  pleased  to  think  that  my  presence  con- 
tributed to  her  enjoyment;  but  it  was  a  considerable 
length  of  time  before  I  could  venture  to  make  a  decla- 
ration of  my  passion.  I  was  without  relations,  or  a 
name,  beyond  that  of  an  expert  hunter.  Although  I 
had  gained  some  gold,  yet  I  did  not  attempt  to  make  a 
crutch  of  that,  by  which  to  support  or  prop  my  hopes. 
I  at  length  made  an  offer  of  myself,  just  as  I  was, 
buoyant  almost  as  the  deer  upon  the  mountain — my  af- 
fections pure,  and  my  heart  unadulterated.  I  was  not 
repulsed,  but  all  was  suspended  upon  the  decision  of 
De  La  Omo,  her  father.  I  sought  his  approbation,  but 
failed  to  obtain  it.  My  soul  withered  within  me;  for  I 
knew  she  was  an  obedient  and  dutiful  child,  and  would 
not  be  guilty  of  an  act  which  would  mix  sorrow  in  her 
father's  cup.  Then  I  made  known  to  her  my  want  of 
success,  and  that  I  was  of  opinion  that  it  was,  at  least 
in  part,  owing  to  an  expectation  with  her  father  that 
she  was  to  be  the  link  by  which  it  was  supposed  that  a 
more  influential  individual  than  myself  was  to  be  con- 
nected with  the  family.  At  the  close  of  these  rcmurkt* 


324  THE   ALPINE   HUNTER. 

Lasaphene  grew  deadly  pale,  tears  fell  from  her  large 
black  ej-es,  and  she  seemed  for  a  moment  to  be  strug- 
gling for  breath,  but  soon  gained  her  self-possession. 
Laying  her  hand  upon  my  arm — which  liberty  she  had 
never  before  taken — and  lifting  her  eyes,  yet  wet  with 
tears,  to  mine,  she  said,  'My  Ultimo — I  say  mine,  yet  it 
is  possible  you  will  never  be  mine — there  are  some 
things  which  I  can  promise  you.  The  first  is,  I  will 
never  marry  the  man  of  whom  you  speak.  He  has  a 
name,  a  title,  wealth,  and  power;  but  the  rank  weeds 
of  crime  and  folly  have  grown  up  and  choked  the  af- 
fections of  his  nature.  He  is  vain,  he  is  proud,  he  is  a 
man  of  policy;  he  has  mixed  with  a  hypocritical  and 
deceitful  world,  until  the  handwriting  of  confidence  is 
obliterated,  and  distrust  is  written  upon  every  thing. 
I  shall  ever  prefer  remaining  with  my  parent  to  shar- 
ing life  with  him.  I  have  no  idea  that  my  father  will 
ever  require  me  to  marry  a  man  whom  I  cannot  love; 
for  though  he  has  refused  your  request,  yet  I  have  a 
good  and  kind  father,  who  loves  me  most  tenderly;  in 
fact,  I  am  his  idol.  To  afflict  him  would  be  a  sore  af- 
fliction ;  for  when  once  the  heart  of  the  aged  is  bruised, 
it  never  heals  again.  With  his  consent,  I  should  be 
happy  with  you;  but  to  go  without  it,  the  curse  of  dis- 
obedience would  follow  us  through  life,  which  would  be 
enough  to  embitter  every  stream  of  pleasure;  and 
while  I  say,  under  the  circumstances,  that  I  cannot 
marry  you,  yet  I  can  say — yes,  I  will  say — should  you 
remain  true,  I  will  never  marry  another.'  I  could  not 
say  to  her,  Fly  with  me.  I  knew  not  what  to  say;  I 
vowed;  I  pledged  undying  faithfulness,  and  laid  hold 
on  the  last  ray  of  hope.  I  soon  after  learned  that  De 
La  Omo  had  changed  his  will,  and  cut  off  Lasapheno 
from  all  interest  in  his  estate  if  she  should  ever  marry 


THE    ALPINE   HUNTER.  325 

me.  This  I  looked  upon  as  the  death -knell  of  all  my 
hopes;  and  it  was  while  I  was  writhing  under  my 
blighted  prospects  that  Napoleon's  detachment  came 
upon  me.  I  was  at  that  moment  fully  prepared  to  turn 
my  back  on  home  and  country,  travel  no  matter  where, 
'and  encounter  dangers  however  great;  so  that  the  pri- 
vations, fatigues,  and  perils  of  war  were  a  relief  to  me. 

"After  the  campaign  in  Italy  was  terminated,  and 
Napoleon,  with  what  remained  of  his  army,  had  re- 
turned to  Paris,  during  the  truce  of  six  months,  I  con- 
cluded to  go  back  to  my  native  country,  to  visit  the 
graves  of  my  parents,  to  unlock  the  rusty  bolts  of  my 
mountain  cell,  and  to  see  if  any  change  had  taken  place 
with  respect  to  my  flame  in  the  vale;  for  the  labors  and 
hardships  of  the  camp  had  done  nothing  in  the  way  of 
obliterating  the  memory  of  my  almost  adored  Lasa- 
phene.  The  grace  and  beauty  of  her  person,  her  dark 
and  flowing  tresses,  the  smoothness  of  her  brow  and 
cheeks,  her  rosy  lips,  breathing  eloquence,  were  ever 
before  my  fancy;  but  her  large  dark  eyes,  shaded  with 
long  and  silky  lashes,  wet  with  tears  as  pure  as  the  dis- 
solving flake  of  mountain  snow  when  last  I  saw  them, 
appeared  to  be  ever  turned  toward  me,  like  a  picture 
drawn  with  its  eyes  upon  the  artist,  which  always 
seems  to  be  looking  upon  the  beholder,  no  matter  what 
part  of  the  room  he  may  occupy.  This  impression, 
more  than  every  thing  else,  held  my  affections  fixed; 
and  if  at  any  time  my  thoughts  roamed  too  far  or  staid 
too  long  from  the  object  of  their  attraction,  when  they 
returned  again  those  ever -watchful  eyes  seemed  to 
gather  about  them  a  shade  of  melancholy,  which  re- 
vived afresh  in  my  heart  my  promise  of  faithfulness  to 
Lasaphene. 

"As   I  approached  the   neighborhood   of  that  spot 


326  THE   ALPINE   HUNTER. 

where  I  first  breathed  the  vital  air,  and  looked  upon 
the  light  of  this  sinful  world,  varied  were  the  thoughts 
which  struggled  through  my  mind.     Before  me  rose  the 
dark  and  frowning  Alps,  and  with  my  eye  I  could  trace 
the  valleys,  gorges,  passes,  and  rugged  heights  along 
which  I  tripped  in  my  boyhood  days,  with  my  trusty 
rifle  on  my  shoulder,  a  heart  buoyant  as  air;  and  there, 
in  lonely  widowhood,  stood  the  Alpine  Hunter's  hut, 
where  I  had  passed  so  many  happy  nights,  whistling  and 
singing,  oiling  and  dressing  the  lock  and  barrel  of  my 
good  rifle,  and  molding  balls  for  my  next  day's  hunt; 
but  there  was  no  smoke  curling  out  of  its  chimney,  no 
faithful  dog  guarding  its  door;  no  signs  of  life  were 
there;  and  when  my  eyes  were  turned  to  the  mountain 
gorge  in  which  slept  the  dust  of  my  fond  parents,  the 
dreams  of  other  days — of  childhood  and  youth — re- 
turned with  all  the  clearness  of  noonday  reality.     My 
father's  manly  form  was  before  me:  I  sat  again  on  my 
little  chair  beside  my  mother,  and  rested  my  head  upon 
her  knees,  and  felt  again  my  mother's  fingers  straying 
through  my  locks,  and  turning  aside  my  clustering 
curls,  as  she  sang  me  to  my  evening  slumbers;  and 
then  I  thought  of  my  Lasaphene,  while  I  seemed  afraid 
to  learn   any  thing  of  her  fate.     These  thoughts  so 
overpowered  me  for  a  time  that  the  soldier  gave  way, 
despondency  and  fear  took  hold  upon  me,  and  tears 
like  rain  fell  from  my  eyes,  softening  my  rough  and 
war-worn  cheeks.     But  again  I  saw  in  my  imagination 
the  ever-watchful  eyes  of  my  Lasaphene  turned  upon 
me,  which  seemed  to  say,  Fear  not!  there  is  a  God  who 
guards  the  interest  of  the  faithful  and  good — trust  him. 
This  was  like  oil  on  my  troubled  heart;  and  I,  in  part 
at  least,  dismissed  my  griefs,  wiped  away  my  tears, 
and  again  breathed  comparatively  cas}'. 


THE   ALPINE    HUNTER.  327 

"I  was  at  this  time  approaching  a  small  village,  on 
the  border  of  which  lived  Do  La  Omo.  It  was  a  most 
lovely  spot;  the  building  itself  was  an  ancient  pile, 
which  had  long  been  in  the  family;  but  the  chief  in- 
terest of  the  place  consisted  in  the  groves,  gardens, 
and  pleasure-grounds,  which  at  one  time  had  been  in 
a  high  state  of  improvement,  but  at  present  were  a 
little  out  of  repair,  though  yet  iovely  in  the  extreme. 
As  I  approached  the  village  church,  I  saw  a  funeral 
procession  moving  away  from  it;  and  seeing  it  would 
cross  my  way,  I  halted.  The  procession  was  large, 
and  among  those  who  were  slowly  following  the  corpse, 
and  close  behind  the  minister  of  God,  was  one  who, 
though  deeply  shaded  with  the  weeds  of  mourning, 
in  her  form  and  gentle  bearing  so  reminded  me  of  my 
Lasaphene  that  I  lost  sight  of  all  others  present.  She 
gave  me  but  one  short  glance  as  she  passed ;  and 
though  her  eyes  were  swollen  with  weeping  and  half 
closed,  and  seen  through  the  dark  shade  of  her  veil, 
yet  so  powerful  was  the  impression  that  my  heart 
struggled  within  me  and  my  whole  frame  shook.  But 
all  was  yet  in  doubt  and  uncertainty.  It  was  but  a 
glance — I  might  be  mistaken.  In  a  few  moments  more 
I  was  at  the  inn,  and  though  knowing  many,  was  re- 
cognized by  none.  I  was  not  slow  in  making  inquiry 
with  respect  to  the  death  which  had  lately  taken  place 
in  the  village,  and  learned  that  Sr.  De  La  Omo  had  de- 
parted this  life  but  three  days  before,  and  that  the  cit- 
izens were  just  bearing  his  body  away  to  its  last  resting- 
place.  I  also  pushed  my  inquiries  far  enough  to  learn 
that  the  wife  and  daughter  yet  lived,  and  that  the 
daughter  was  still  unmarried ;  and  my  informant  went 
on  to  tell  me  that  the  young  lady  had  determined 
never  to  marry;  that  she  had  at  one  time  contracted  a 


328  THE    ALPINE   HUNTEft. 

passion  for  a  young  hunter,  and  being  opposed  by  her 
father,  she  had  discarded  her  lover,  and  that  the  young 
man  became  desperate,  and  soon  after  disappeared  in 
the  mountains,  and  had  never  been  heard  of  since,  and 
was  no  doubt  dead;  this  so  affected  the  young  lady 
that  she  gave  up  society,  and  never  mingled  with  the 
multitude,  unless  it  was  in  divine  worship;  but  what 
she  might  be  disposed  to  do,  now  that  her  father  was 
dead,  he  could  not  tell;  she  had  had  many  good  oifers, 
but  would  not  accept  any  of  them,  still  preferring  to 
remain  with  her  parents. 

"Thinking  that  it  would  be  indelicate  in  me  to  call 
on  Lasaphene  until  the  sharp  edge  of  her  grief  had 
worn  away,  I  determined  to  avail  myself  of  the  present 
opportunity  to  visit  my  mountain  home,  and  also  the 
graves  of  my  parents.  This  I  took  care  to  do  alone 
and  unattended.  I  first  bent  my  steps  toward  my 
little  habitation  far  up  the  cliffs.  As  I  ascended,  every 
rock  and  tree  seemed  to  be  as  familiar  to  me  as  the 
face  of  an  old  friend.  At  length  I  laid  my  hand  on 
my  own  key;  it  had  lain  for  years  in  the  crevice  of 
the  rock  where  I  had  deposited  it  the  night  I  took 
my  departure  with  the  detachment  of  Napoleon's 
soldiers.  I  grasped  it  convulsively  in  my  hand ;  it 
was  the  outdoor  sentinel  of  my  humble  hut,  which  I 
slowly  and  softly  approached.  I  thrust  the  key  once 
more  into  its  kindred  lock;  the  rusty  bolt  gratingly 
moved  under  the  pressure  of  my  hand,  the  door  opened, 
a  breath  as  cold  and  chill  as  the  grave  met  me;  I  was 
again  in  my  mountain  home.  There  was  my  bed, 
just  as  though  I  had  arisen  from  it  an  hour  before; 
the  cover  was  still  tangled  and  thrown  back  as  I  left 
it  when  surprised  by  the  detachment;  unconsumed 
brands  of  my  last  fire  lay  upon  the  hearth;  in  fact, 


THE    ALPINE    HUNTER. 

every  thing  was  found  in  place,  except  my  scanty  store 
of  provisions,  which  had  been  seized  upon  by  the 
mountain  rats  that  had  insinuated  themselves  into 
the  room.  Two  objects  were  missing — my  trusty  rifle 
and  faithful  dog.  My  rifle,  I  knew  not  its  fate,  having 
disposed  of  it  when  I  connected  myself  with  the  army; 
and  my  dog,  poor  fellow !  followed  me  beyond  the  Alps, 
witnessed  much  of  my  affliction,  but  at  last  perished 
beside  my  tent  in  a  foreign  land.  Poor  Tabbo !  I  should 
be  unkind  to  forget  thee. 

"My  next  visit  was  to  the  grave  of  my  parents.  I 
knelt  at  their  feet  and  thought  of  by -gone  days.  Their 
repose  seemed  to  be  sweet  and  quiet,  and  my  depres- 
sion of  spirit  was  not  so  great  as  I  had  anticipated. 
I  wept,  but  my  tears  were  not  bitter;  and  the  angel 
of  the  resurrection  no  doubt  keeps  guard  over  the 
spot.  After  committing  myself  in  prayer  to  the  God 
of  my  fathers,  I  bade  the  dust  of  my  beloved  parents 
adieu. 

"When  a  reasonable  length  of  time  had  elapsed  after 
the  death  of  De  La  Qmo,  I  sought  and  obtained  an 
introduction  to  Lasaphene,  under  a  fictitious  name, 
dressed  in  the  style  of  a  French  officer;  I  was  also 
wearing  a  large  mustache,  with  my  face  much  marred 
by  the  hardships  of  war.  These  things,  together  with 
the  fact  that  I  spoke  to  her  in  the  French  language,  so 
completely  disguised  me  that  I  was  wholly  unknown  to 
her.  Some  changes  had  passed  over  her,  but  they  were 
not  so  marked  as  I  should  have  supposed.  She  wore  the 
traces  of  thoughtfulness  and  a  shade  of  melancholy, 
which  made  her  countenance  somewhat  less  animated 
than  when  I  last  saw  her;  but  such  were  her  grace  and 
dignity  that  I  could  not  for  some  moments  avoid  em- 
barrassment. I  spoke  with  her  of  things  in  general, 


330  THE   ALPINE   HUNTER. 

and  indulged  in  easy  conversation  until  all  restraint 
subsided.  I  at  length  asked  her  if  she  was  ever  ac- 
quainted with  an  individual  familiarly  known  as  the 
Alpine  Hunter.  This  question  evidently  startled  her, 
but  after  a  moment  she  collected  herself,  gave  me  a 
searching  look,  and  replied  that  she  was.  I  asked  her 
what  had  become  of  him;  she  said  she  did  not  know. 
I  asked  if  he  were  dead;  she  said  the  people  generally 
supposed  he  was.  In  what  manner  do  they  suppose 
he  came  to  his  last  end?  She  said  that  the  opinions 
of  the  people  were  various  on  that  subject:  some  sup- 
posed that  he  had  been  destroyed  by  an  avalanche; 
others  believed  that  he  had  missed  his  v?ay  in  the  fast- 
nesses of  the  Alps,  and  had  perished  with  cold  or  hun- 
ger; others  suggested  that  he  had  fallen  a  prey  to  wild 
beasts;  while  many  of  the  hunters  are  of  the  opinion 
that  he  is  converted  into  some  kind  of  apparition,  and 
is  a  general  patrol  of  the  mountains,  and  has  been 
seen  by  them,  as  they  suppose,  in  various  forms;  some- 
times he  is  an  antelope,  at  other  times  he  is  an  ibex; 
and  in  these  forms  he  has  been  repeatedly  shot  at,  as 
they  say,  though  without  the  least  danger  of  doing 
him  any  harm;  others  pretend  to  have  conversed  with 
him  when  he  had  taken  on  the  form  of  a  night-bird, 
and  at  eve  would  swoop  down  some  mighty  cliff,  as  the 
precursor  of  the  midnight  storm,  giving  the  hunters 
timely  notice  to  seek  some  place  of  shelter;  and  it  is 
generally  supposed  by  the  hunters  that  he  still  occu- 
pies his  mountain  cell,  as  he  used  to  call  it;  and  though 
the  door  is  always  locked,  they  pretend  to  have  seen 
him  enter  without  unlocking  it;  and  so  general  is  this 
supposition  that  notwithstanding  he  has  been  gone  for 
years,  yet  no  one  has  ever  attempted  to  force  his  door, 
or  in  any  way  to  interrupt  his  dwelling;  'but  my  opin- 


THE    ALPINE   HUNTER.  331 

ion  is  that  he  left  with  Napoleon's  army  when  it 
crossed  the  Alps.'  This  last  declaration  of  Lasaphene 
astonished  me,  for  I  had  neither  seen  nor  spoken  to 
any  of  my  acquaintances  after  I  was  taken  by  the  de- 
tachment, and  had  been  so  circumstanced  that  I  could 
not  communicate  with  her  either  by  friend  or  letter.  I 
at  last  told  her  that  she  was  correct  in  her  suspicions,  that 
he  did  leave  with  the  army,  that  I  was  well  acquainted 
with  him,  and  that  he  yet  lived,  and  remembered  her 
with  more  than  the  affection  of  a  friend;  at  which  she 
turned  deadly  pale  —  her  whole  frame  seemed  to  be 
convulsed,  her  bosom  heaved  as  though  slumbering 
fires  which  had  long  been  pent  up  within  had  suddenly 
been  ignited;  but  soon  the  paleness  gave  way  to  a 
glow  almost  like  that  of  flame,  which  covered  her  face, 
tears  streamed  from  her  eyes,  and  a  rapturous  smile 
spread  over  her  countenance.  She  at  last  exclaimed, 
'Am  I  awake?  Is  this  reality,  or  is  it  a  dream?  shall  I 
after  awhile  wake  up  and  find  this  is  all  the  mockery 
of  a  nightly  vision?  Am  I  deceived?'  she  said.  '0 
say  the  words  to  me  again!  He  lives;  my  Ultimo  lives! 
and  thinks  of  me!  0  tell  me  all;  tell  me  now!'  I 
should  have  betrayed  myself  had  not  the  agitation  of 
Lasaphene  prevented  her  from  observing  mine.  I  told 
her  that  it  was  no  dream,  but  reality;  and  assured  her 
that  Ultimo  but  waited  to  learn  his  fate  from  her.  She 
now  became  more  collected,  and  related  as  follows: 
'The  Alpine  Hunter  I  loved  with  all  the  strength  of 
woman's  love.  He  was  noble,  generous,  brave,  and 
won  my  love  without  trying  to  deceive;  but  my  now 
sainted  father  interposed  a  barrier,  and  I  could  not 
disobey  him.  We  could  only  vow  faithfulness  to  each 
other,  and  leave  our  fortune  to  God  and  the  future. 
My  father  soon  after  made  a  condition  in  his  will 


332  THE   ALPINE   HUNTER. 

that  I  should  be  disinherited  if  I  married  without  his 
consent;  and  though  the  property  itself  was  not  a 
matter  of  much  moment,  yet  this  act  of  my  father 
showed  the  depth  of  his  feeling  on  the  subject.  When 
this  fact  came  to  the  ears  of  the  hunter,  he  became 
desperate,  and  disappeared;  but  I  never  believed  that 
he  had  either  forgotten  or  abandoned  me.  My  father 
seeing  my  faithfulness  to  himself,  and  the  undying 
nature  of  my  attachment  before  his  death,  relented, 
sent  for  an  attorney,  changed  his  will,  making  me 
his  sole  heir  (save  a  comfortable  support  for  my 
mother),  introduced  a  new  clause  into  his  will  ap- 
proving of  my  marriage  with  the  hunter,  should 
he  ever  return,  and  even  expressed  a  wish  that  I 
should  recall  him,  if  I  should  ever  ascertain  the  place 
of  his  abode.'  I  then  told  her  that  she  must  not  ex- 
pect to  find  the  hunter  in  appearance  what  he  once 
was — young,  fresh,  buoyant,  and  full  of  life  and  poetry. 
I  then  described  the  appearance  of  the  common  soldier 
after  the  return  from  the  campaign  in  Italy — worn, 
wasted  with  fatigue  and  hunger,  and  dispirited — and 
asked  her  how  she  would  fancy  such  an  object.  'But 
show  me  my  own  Ultimo,'  said  she,  'and  any  suffering 
through  which  he  may  have  passed  will  but  endear 
him  to  my  heart.'  I  then  promised  to  present  her 
Alpine  Hunter  the  next  morning.  Scarcely  able  to  pre- 
vent detection,  I  tore  myself  away.  I  cut  off  my  mus- 
tache, obtained  the  usual  dress  of  the  Alpine  Hunter, 
returned  the  next  morning  alone,  spoke  to  her  in  my 
native  tongue.  I  was  then  at  once  recognized  as  her 
Ultimo,  and  also  as  the  French  officer  who  visited  her 
the  previous  evening.  I  shall  never  attempt  to  de- 
scribe this  meeting.  Our  nuptials  were  not  long  de- 
layed. I  am  now  the  thrice-happy  husband  of  the 


BURNING   OF   THE   YALLABUSHA.  333 

pure,  the  gentle,  the  faithful  Lasaphene  De  La  Omo. 
True  to  her  parents,  her  God,  and  her  husband,  there 
is  no  withering  curse  of  an  injured  father  upon  us. 
Happy  in  each  other,  blessing  others,  while  being  blest 
ourselves  with  the  promise  of  long  life  before  us;  for 
those  who  honor  their  father  and  mother  have  assur- 
ance that  their  days  shall  be  long  in  the  land  which 
the  Lord  God  giveth  them."  1847. 


BURNING  OF  THE  YALLABUSHA. 

ON  the  night  of  the  18th  of  January,  1848,  at  eleven 
o'clock,  the  steamboat  Yallabusha  was  baring  her  breast 
to  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi,  on  her  downward  trip, 
bound  for  New  Orleans.  She  was  heavily  freighted 
with  cotton,  and  in  her  cabin  and  on  her  deck  carried  a 
medium  number  of  passengers.  Her  cargo  was  so  vast 
that  the  privileges  of  the  voyagers  were  greatly  cur- 
tailed; they  were  confined  to  the  cabin  or  such  narrow 
passages  as  those  who  were  engaged  in  putting  on 
freight  saw  proper  to  leave  for  them. 

The  night  was  dark,  and  the  cane  fires  which  had 
been  burning  on  the  sugar  plantations  that  lined  the 
shores  had  expired,  and  no  lights  were  to  be  seen  save 
here  and  there  the  dim  flickering  of  the  wood-yard 
lanterns. 

The  passengers  had  ceased  to  promenade  the  cabin, 
the  cheery  song  of  the  deckers  had  died  away,  and  the 
merry  romp  and  playful  gambols  of  the  children  were 
all  suspended  for  the  night;  and  father,  mother,  and 
child  had  all  turned  in,  as  a  sailor  would  say,  to  take 
refreshment  in  sleep — all  retiring  with  the  expectation 
that  early  on  the  next  morning  the  apparently  weary 


334  BURNING   OF   THE  YALLABUSHA. 

boat  would  be  brought  to  rest  in  her  berth  at  the 
wharf  in  New  Orleans,  some  of  them  to  see  for  the 
first  time,  and  others  to  look  again  upon,  the  busy  mart 
of  the  Crescent  City. 

All  on  board  was  hushed  and  still,  as  if  that  life 
which  filled  the  boat  a  few  hours  before  had  been  sud- 
denly quenched  by  the  darkness  of  the  tomb.  The 
pilot  stood  at  the  wheel,  with  his  spray-cap  upon  his 
head,  and  his  pilot-coat  drawn  close  about  him,  his 
practiced  eye  peering  ahead,  while  he  was  swaying  his 
massy  charge  to  the  right  and  left  as  the  current 
would  indicate;  while  the  officer  on  watch  stood  alone, 
like  a  neglected  stranger,  upon  the  boiler-deck  beside 
one  of  the  chimneys,  looking  out  in  order  that  he 
might  descry  in  time  any  weaker  craft,  so  that  they 
should  not  impose  upon  any  fellow-traveler,  as  well  as 
to  keep  themselves  out  of  harm's  way;  while  the  weary 
engineer  sat  beside  his  faithful  engine  in  sullen  silence, 
with  his  half  slumbering  ear  still  open  toward  the  pi- 
lot's bell,  so  as  to  attend  at  a  moment's  warning  to  the 
wishes  of  the  man  at  the  wheel;  and  the  night-watch, 
with  his  leaded  lantern,  had  just  made  his  round,  ex- 
tinguishing any  spark  that  had  fallen  upon  the  decks 
or  elsewhere,  which  seemed  to  be  too  full  of  life,  and 
possibly  was  just  pronouncing  to  himself,  "All's  well," 
when  suddenly  the  flames  burst  through  the  cabin- 
floor  in  and  about  the  clerk's  office,  the  fire  having  been 
occasioned,  no  doubt,  by  the  great  heat  of  the  boilers 
extending  to  the  cotton-bags  in  their  immediate  vicin- 
ity, these  probably  being  ignited  by  some  wandering 
spark.  The  flames  shot  forth  almost  as  suddenly  as  if 
from  gunpowder.  Instantly  the  cry  "Fire!  fire!" — 
the  most  terrific  of  all  cries  to  those  aboard  of  any 
kind  of  floating  craft — rang  throughout  the  boat.  One 


* 
BURNING   OF   THE   YALLABUSHA.  335 

minute  more,  and  till  hope  of  extinguishing  the  flames 
was  at  an  end ;  for  the  already  heated  thin  pine  boards, 
dry  as  tinder,  burned  like  so  many  broom-straws  fanned 
by  a  breeze,  while  nil  that  kind  of  alarm  and  confu- 
sion which  always  exists  where  a  number  of  persons — • 
men,  women,  and  children — are  thrown  together  in  the 
midst  of  deadly  peril,  now  filled  the  boat. 

Let  me  say  to  the  reader  that  while  all  the  circum- 
stances which  follow  occurred  in  a  few  short  minutes, 
yet  we  shall  have  to  take  them  up  and  notice  them  one 
at  a  time. 

As  soon  as  the  fire  was  discovered,  the  man  at  the 
wheel  turned  the  boat  to  the  shore,  and  I  believe  never 
left  his  post  until  his  wheel-ropes  burned  in  two;  but 
this  did  not  occur  until  the  bow  of  the  boat  struck  the 
bottom  near  the  bank.  The  passengers  who  occupied 
the  gentlemen's  cabin  were  able  to  roll  themselves 
from  their  berths  in  time  to  pass  the  flames,  which 
were  already  raging  in  the  social  hall — and  gain  the 
boiler-deck,  and  then  the  forecastle,  so  that  as  soon  as 
the  boat  struck,  they  threw  themselves  over  the  bow 
into  the  water,  where  a  few  steps  brought  them  upon 
dry  land. 

One  fact  worthy  of  particular  notice  occurs  here. 
Colonel  S.,  one  of  the  cabin  passengers,  laid  hold  on 
one  of  the  large  cables  which  lay  on  the  forecastle, 
and  with  its  end  upon  his  shoulder  plunged  into  the 
water,  and  by  an  extraordinary  exertion  was  enabled 
to  reach  the  land;  then  being  assisted  by  others  who 
had  made  the  shore  by  this  time,  they  carried  the  ca- 
ble up  the  bank,  and  made  it  fast  to  a  tree;  but  from 
the  alarm  and  confusion  among  the  boat-hands  they 
failed  to  make  the  cable  fast  to  the  boat,  which  fact 
was  not  discovered  until  it  was  too  late. 


336  BURNING    OF   THE   YALLABUSHA. 

We  will  now  conduct  the  reader  to  the  ladies'  cabin, 
where  every  eye  is  sure  to  turn  on  such  an  occasion. 
There  were  Judge  M.,  wife,  and  two  children ;  the  Eev. 
Mr.  P.,  wife,  and  two  children;  Mr.  E.  (merchant),  wife, 
and  child;  with  several  others,  and  servants.  As  soon 
as  the  alarm  of  fire  was  given  all  seemed  to  regard  the 
bow  of  the  boat,  or  forecastle,  as  the  safest  point,  which 
was  no  doubt  a  correct  view.  Judge  M.,  the  Eev.  Mr. 
P.,  and  families,  were  in  a  minute  together  in  the  la- 
dies' cabin;  Judge  M.  went  forward,  leaving  his  wife 
and  children,  to  see  if  there  was  any  chance  for  them 
to  reach  the  bow  of  the  boat.  The  Eev.  Mr.  P.,  with 
a  child  at  each  hand,  and,  as  he  supposed,  his  wife,  fol- 
lowed Judge  M.  to  the  boiler-deck;  but  it  was  with 
considerable  difficulty  that  they  were  enabled  to  pass 
the  raging  flames  in  the  social  hall.  When  they  had 
reached  the  boiler-deck,  Judge  M.  said,  "I  must  return 
after  my  family."  At  this  moment  the  Eev.  Mr.  P. 
discovered  that  his  wife  had  failed  to  follow  him,  and 
he,  too,  with  his  children,  undertook  to  return  and  join 
the  wife  and  mother,  and  all  be  saved  or  perish  to- 
gether. Judge  M.  was  a  little  in  advance  of  Mr.  P.  and 
his  children.  When  he  reached  the  social  hall  such 
was  the  increase  of  the  flames  that  to  pass  them 
seemed  next  to  impossible;  but  he  rushed  forward,  and 
would  have  fallen  and  perished  in  the  suffocating 
flames,  but  for  the  fact  that  he  caught  upon  a  table 
which  was  sitting  in  the  cabin,  by  which  he  sustained 
himself  until  he  passed  the  most  difficult  point,  and 
was  enabled  to  join  his  family  in  the  ladies'  cabin. 
The  last  account  from  the  Eev.  Mr.  P.  and  his  children 
is  given  by  Judge  M.,  who  states  that  when  passing  the 
flames  in  the  social  hall,  he  heard  close  behind  him  the 
complainings  of  the  children,  and  the  thick,  heavy 


BURNING    OF   TUB   YALLABUSHA.  337 

breathings  of  Mr.  P.     There  the  father  and  children 
no  doubt  perished. 

After  Judge  M.  had  rejoined  his  family,  as  it  was 
now  impossible  for  them  to  reach  the  bow  of  the  boat, 
and  as  the  flames  were  searching  the  cabins  fore  and 
aft,  they  fled  first  to  the  guards,  but  were  very  soon 
driven  from  that  point  to  the  top  of  the  wheel-house. 
The  engine  had  to  be  kept  in  motion  until  the  boat 
could  be  brought  to,  by  which  time  the  flames  became 
so  furious  in  the  engine-room  that  the  engineer  was 
driven  from  his  post,  and  it  was  now  impossible  for 
him  to  stop  the  motion  of  the  machinery;  and  as  the 
cable  had  not  been  made  fast  to  the  boat,  as  soon 
as  the  current  drifted  the  stern  around,  the  bow 
rounded  out,  and  the  boat,  like  some  fearful  monster 
maddened  by  the  flames,  drove  with  dreadful  fury  for 
the  middle  of  the  stream.  This,  as  said  by  one  on 
board,  was  an  awful  moment.  One-half  of  the  pas- 
sengers were  yet  on  the  boat,  being  driven  from 
place  to  place  by  the  pursuing  flames.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments more,  should  they  escape  the  flames,  they  would 
be  so  far  from  shore  that  they  must  perish  by  the 
flood.  At  this  dreadful  crisis  a  wail  rang  out  from 
those  on  board,  which,  could  you  have  heard,  would  for 
the  time  have  stopped  the  blood  in  your  veins.  This 
was  answered  by  a  wild  shout  from  those  on  the  bank, 
"Jump  in!  jump  overboard!"  The  raging  fire  had  now 
turned  the  darkness  of  midnight  into  the  brightness 
of  noonday.  Judge  M.,  his  delicate  and  feeble  wife, 
and  two  little  sons,  were  still  standing  on  the  top  of 
the  wheel-house,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  from  the 
water — the  flames  scorching  them,  and  the  boat  madly 
tearing  away  from  the  shore.  At  this  moment  Colonel 
8.,  who  stood  in  the  water  near  the  shore,  cried  out  to 
15 


BURNING   OP   THE   YALLABUSIIA. 

Mrs.  M.  to  throw  herself  into  the  water  and  she  should 
not  perish.  The  Judge,  who  stood  by  her  side  with  a 
child  at  each  hand,  said  to  her  with  the  voice  of  au- 
thority, "Jump,  jump  this  moment!"  As  the  words 
passed  his  lips  she  leaped,  and  the  Judge  followed  with 
his  two  children.  Just  as  they  reached  the  water,  a 
heavy  trunk  fell  from  above  upon  Judge  M.'s  left  arm, 
wounding  it  considerably.  The  blow  loosened  the 
child  at  his  left-hand  from  his  grasp,  and  it  was  never 
after  recovered.  He  made  for  the  shore  as  best  he 
could  with  one  crippled  arm,  and  a  child  at  the  hand 
of  the  other.  When  he  had  gotten  within  some  eight 
or  ten  feet  of  the  shore  he  gave  his  child  a  shove  on 
the  waves  toward  the  bank,  leaving  it  to  be  caught 
and  made  safe  by  others,  and  returned  to  the  rescue 
of  his  wife.  Colonel  S.,  as  soon  as  he  saw  Mrs.  M. 
leap  from  the  boat,  plunged  in  to  her  aid,  and  they 
were  struggling  together  in  the  water,  the  Colonel 
gaining  slowly  upon  the  shore,  and  would  likely  have 
made  it  with  his  charge  unaided,  for  he  was  a  man  of 
brave  and  daring  spirit,  and  perfectly  at  himself;  but 
they  were  soon  joined  by  Judge  M.,  who  gave  them 
his  aid,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  they  were  at  the 
river  bank. 

Mrs.  P.,  in  the  meantime,  had  been  crowded  off  the 
boat;  and  as  Mr.  N.  was  swimming  toward  the  shore 
he  saw  something  rise  in  the  water  near  him,  which 
he  laid  hold  upon  and  carried  to  the  bank.  It  proved 
to  be  the  now  lonely,  disconsolate,  miserable  Mrs.  P., 
her  husband  and  children  being  lost. 

But  the  reader  is  ready  to  ask,  What  has  become  of 
Mr.  E.,  wife,  and  child?  We  will  now  point  them  out 
to  you.  Mr.  R.  is  young,  generous,  brave;  his  wife  a 
mere  blooming  girl;  their  child,  little  Willie,  the  life 


BURNING   OF   THE   YALLABUSHA.  339 

of  the  boat,  two  years  old,  with  his  bright  face  and 
large,  laughing  blue  eyes.  See  them  yonder  at  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  aft  of  the  ladies'  cabin.  As  the  boat 
rounded  out  Mr.  E.  saw  that  all  hope  of  safety  was  at 
an  end  if  they  remained  longer  on  board;  so  he  took 
his  young  wife  with  one  hand,  and  little  "Willie  with 
the  other,  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  guards  aft,  and 
they  threw  themselves  overboard.  Here  let  Mr.  E. 
himself  relate:  "We  all  sank  together;  having  both 
my  hands  encumbered  I  was  unable  to  keep  to  the  top 
while  we  were  whirling  and  struggling  through  the 
water.  I  saw  at  once  that  one  of  my  charges  must  be 
abandoned,  or  in  a  few  moments  all  would  be  in  eter- 
nity together.  A  single  thought,  and  my  selection  was 
made — I  let  my  sweet,  laughing  Willie  go,  or  rather, 
unloosed  his  grasp  upon  me.  Then  by  the  use  of  my 
feet  and  one  hand,  I  was  enabled  to  rise  to  the  top,  and 
the  fearful  waves,  which  one  might  suppose  would 
greatly  increase  the  danger  of  drowning  of  those  who 
had  dropped  overboard,  were  a  God-send,  for  they  car- 
ried us  toward  the  shore." 

About  the  time  that  Mr.  E.,  wife,  and  child,  went 
overboard,  one  of  the  officers  of  the  ill-fated  steamer 
— if  I  mistake  not,  an  engineer — who  had  for  a  time 
taken  shelter  in  the  steps  of  the  boat,  finding  that  he 
could  not  render  relief  to  any  one  by  remaining  longer 
on  board,  and  that  every  moment  increased  his  own 
danger,  threw  himself  into  the  river,  and  was  making 
for  the  shore  a  little  below  where  Mr.  E.  and  his  wife 
had  reached  it.  As  he  swam  through  the  water  he  saw 
something  rise  to  the  surface,  which  he  laid  hold  of 
and  bore  to  the  shore.  It  proved  to  be  a  child,  but 
whose  he  did  not  know.  He  carried  it  up  the  bank. 
The  child  soon  discharged  the  water  it  had  swallowed, 


340  BURNING   OP  THE   YALLABUSHA. 

and  recovered  from  its  strangling;  when  the  engineer 
gave  it  in  charge  of  some  persons  who  had  by  this 
time  reached  the  bank,  and  for  a  time  thought  no  more 
about  it,  but  went  to  see  if  there  was  any  other  person 
to  whom  he  could  give  assistance.  Mr.  E.  and  wife 
were  yet  near  the  water's  edge,  and  the  young  mother 
in  the  deepest  anguish  about  her  lost  Willie;  while  her 
husband  would  tell  her  that  she  ought  to  thank  God 
that  any  of  them  were  saved,  and  that  Willie  was  bet- 
ter prepared  to  die  than  they  were.  This  she  would 
acknowledge,  but  still  she  would  call  her  Willie  with 
the  most  imploring  and  despairing  tones,  as  though 
she  would  arouse  him  from  the  deep,  where  she  now 
supposed  him  buried;  and  again  she  would  shriek,  as 
though  a  dagger  was  piercing  her  heart,  and  cry  out, 
"O  Willie!  Willie!  how  can  I  give  you  up?  how  can 
I  leave  you  here?" 

At  length  it  was  stated  by  some  one  that  there  was 
a  child  on  the  bank,  and  that  they  did  not  know  whose 
it  was.  At  this  Mr.  R.  and  wife,  aided  by  some  friends, 
climbed  up  the  bank,  when,  meeting  the  child,  who 
should  it  be  but  Willie?  who  made  himself  known  by 
saying,  "Ma,  you're  wet;  and  I'm  wet,  too,  ma!"  To 
have  seen  that  mother,  as  she  held  him  in  her  arms, 
ran  her  fingers  through  his  wet  locks,  and  pressed  him 
to  her  grateful  heart,  would  have  brought  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  a  savage. 

There  were  twenty-seven  or  twenty-eight  who  never 
reached  the  shore,  but  perished  either  by  the  flames  or 
the  flood. 

The  boat  drove  wildly  through  the  water  until  the 
machinery  gave  way  and  stood  still,  then  the  flaming 
mass  drifted  with  the  current,  till  it  was  lashed  to  a 
passing  boat,  towed  to  the  shore,  and  made  fast;  but 


AN   ARKANSAS   STORY.  341 

as  though  destruction  claimed  her  own  to  the  last,  the 
flames  continued  to  rage,  and  the  boat  burned  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  at  last  filled  and  sank  to  the  common 
grave  of  western  steamers,  the  bed  of  the  Mississippi 
River.  1848. 


AH  ARKANSAS  STORY. 

WHILE  the  world  concedes  to  literature,  civilization, 
and  morals  their  just  claims,  it  has  withheld  from  the 
Bible  and  the  religion  of  Christ  their  dues.  The  Bible 
is  neglected,  while  the  works  of  a  day  are  introduced 
as  the  parlor  book,  and  true  piety  is  not  thought  to  be 
a  becoming  subject  of  conversation  for  genteel  persons 
in  a  polite  circle.  But,  notwithstanding  all  this,  once 
in  awhile  a  full  and  frank  acknowledgment  of  the  su- 
periority of  the  claims  of  Christianity  is  met  with, 
fresh  from  the  lips  of  men  of  the  world.  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  however,  that  it  too  often  requires  the  hand  of 
affliction,  the  prospect  of  danger,  or  the  near  approach 
of  death,  to  induce  them  to  make  this  honest  confes- 
sion. Some  of  these  acknowledgments  I  have  heard 
and  treasured  up;  and  the  story  I  am  about  to  relate 
is,  at  least  in  part,  connected  with  such  an  acknowledg- 
ment. 

About  eighteen  years  ago,  we  descended  the  Missis- 
sippi in  one  of  the  largest  steamers  of  that  day,  and 
while  the  hold,  guards,  and  decks  were  crowded  with 
cotton  bales,  the  cabin  was  filled  with  passengers;  and 
though  the  company  was  a  mixed  one,  yet  it  differed 
widely  from  the  multitudes  one  meets  with  on  a  steam- 
boat at  the  present  day.  Among  all  the  passengers  on 
board,  I  do  not  think  there  was  one  who  had  shipped 


342  AN   ARKANSAS   ST011Y. 

merely  on  a  trip  of  pleasure;  all  were  on  business. 
The  cost  of  traveling  was  then  too  great  to  make  pleas- 
ure-trips; from  Louisville  or  Nashville  to  New  Orleans 
the  fare  was  forty  dollars,  and  fifty  dollars  back.  We 
had  on  board  cotton  and  sugar  planters,  on  their  way  to 
their  plantations,  land  speculators,  professional  men, 
each  on  business  in  his  line,  while  others  were  looking 
for  a  new  home;  and  among  the  rest  was  an  aged  and 
venerable  minister  of  the  gospel  (Bishop  McKendree), 
on  his  way  to  visit  the  Churches  in  the  South,  and  to 
escape  from  the  severity  of  a  more  northern  climate. 
As  our  passage  was  a  protracted  one,  the  subjects  of 
conversation  were  various  and  interesting;  for  there 
were  on  board  men  of  more  than  ordinary  talents,  from 
almost  every  station  in  life.  Yet  religion  did  not  be- 
come a  subject  of  general  conversation  until  Sabbath- 
day  came,  to  pass  which  as  agreeably  as  possible  (as  all 
games  and  amusements  had  to  be  suspended)  it  was  de- 
termined by  the  cabin  passengers  that  the  aged  minis- 
ter should  be  called  on  to  give  them  a  sermon;  which 
he  readily  consented  to  do.  The  captain  had  every 
thing  put  in  order,  and  all  the  unemployed  persons 
about  the  boat  summoned  to  the  cabin,  who,  with  the 
passengers,  made  quite  a  respectable  congregation. 

I  shall  long  remember  the  appearance  of  this  vener- 
able man  of  God  at  the  moment  he  arose  from  his  chair 
to  commence  the  service,  and  the  first  sentence  that 
fell  from  his  lips.  Though  his  locks  were  whitened 
with  the  frost  of  years,  and  he  stood  trembling  under 
the  weight  of  age  and  infirmity,  yet  there  was  about 
him  the  cheerfulness  of  youth,  and  a  benignant  smile — 
the  result  of  conscious  innocence  —  played  upon  his 
countenance.  He  took  a  slight  survey  of  his  audience, 
and  commenced  by  saying,  "My  time  has  come  now;" 


AN   ARKANSAS   STORY.  343 

and  well  did  he  improve  it.  He  read  a  psalm,  made  a 
short  but  comprehensive  prayer,  and  then  took  for  his 
text  Eccles.  xii.  13,  14:  "Let  us  hear  the  conclusion  of 
the  whole  matter:  Fear  God  and  keep  his  command- 
ments; for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man.  For  God 
shall  bring  every  work  into  judgment,  with  every  secret 
thing,  whether  it  be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil." 

He  proceeded  to  show  man's  accountability  to  God, 
and  that  his  whole  duty  could  never  be  considered  at- 
tended to  until  God  was  loved  supremely,  and  all  his 
commandments  kept;  and  that  an  immortal  being, 
launched  upon  the  wide  ocean  of  eternal  existence, 
could  expect  nothing  better  than  wreck  and  ruin,  un- 
less he  had  laid  in  stores,  and  made  his  reckonings  for 
the  harbor  of  eternal  rest  at  God's  right-hand;  and  that 
we  cannot  come  to  safe  moorings  there  without  first 
passing  the  straits  of  the  bar  of  Almighty  God;  that 
abundance  of  grace  would  be  found  necessary  as  our 
ship-stores,  and  the  word  of  God  as  our  chart  and  com- 
pass. As  he  proceeded  with  his  discourse,  every  one 
present  seemed  to  feel  the  force  and  eloquence  of  truth. 

When  the  service  was  concluded,  the  hour  of  dining 
past,  and  the  preacher  had  retired  to  his  state-room,  as 
the  weather  was  cool,  we  were  driven  in  close  com- 
munity around  the  stove,  and  a  general  conversation 
ensued  on  the  subject  of  religion,  in  which  the  writer 
acted  the  important  part  of  listener.  All  agreed  that 
the  sermon  we  had  just  heard  was  an  able  one,  and  that 
the  minister  was  a  man  of  fine  sense  and  taste,  and 
great  sweetness  of  spirit.  At  length  the  question  was 
raised  whether  religion  consisted  in  education,  a  rigid 
course  of  moral  training,  or  a  divine  principle.  The 
ground  was  soon  taken  that  it  was  nothing  more  than 
good  morals,  reduced  to  a  system  and  acted  out  in  the 


344  AN    ARKANSAS   STORY. 

affairs  of  life.  While  this  view  was  gaining  a  more 
go i u' nil  assent  within  tho  circle  than  one  would  have 
supposed,  considering  the  character  of  the  sermon  to 
which  we  had  just  been  listening,  it  was  at  last  ob- 
jected to  by  one  who  was  to  a  considerable  extent  the 
master-spirit  of  the  party — an  old- and  able  lawyer,  a 
man  of  general  information. 

He  began  by  saying,  "Gentlemen,  you  may  rest  as- 
sured of  the  fact  that  there  is  something  more  in  relig- 
ion than  good  morals.  I  am  no  professor;  but  you 
may  depend  upon  it,  there  is  a  reality,  a  supernatural 
something  in  religion,  and  at  times  we  are  compelled, 
all  of  us,  to  acknowledge  it.  Let  me  give  you,"  said 
he,  "one  single  instance  in  my  experience.  Some  time 
ago  I  was  traveling  through  the  Territory  of  Arkansas, 
and  one  day,  after  I  had  got  beyond  the  settlements,  I 
journeyed  on  the  entire  after  part  of  the  day  without 
seeing  any  human  habitation,  or  living  being  of  whom 
to  inquire  with  respect  to  whether  I  was  in  the  right 
path  or  the  wrong  one,  until  my  loneliness  became  op- 
pressive. As  evening  drew  near,  I  became  anxious 
about  what  was  to  become  of  me  during  the  night.  I 
thought  I  was  drawing  near  the  great  swamp  border- 
ing the  Mississippi,  but  did  not  know  whether  I  should 
find  any  house  before  I  reached  it  or  not.  As  I  was 
alone  and  a  stranger,  I  felt  my  situation  to  be  more 
helpless  and  dependent  than  usual ;  but  it  so  happened 
that  between  sunset  and  dark  I  came  up  to  a  small 
but  rather  comfortable-looking  new  cabin,  by  the  way- 
side, set  down  in  the  midst  of  an  unbroken  forest, 
which  looked  almost  like  the  work  of  magic.  I  rode 

O 

up  to  it,  and  called ;  a  lady  soon  presented  herself  at 
the  door;  I  claimed  the  hospitalities  generally  ex- 
tended to  travelers  in  the  frontier  settlements.  She 


AN   ARKANSAS   STORY.  345 

told  me  that  I  was  welcome  to  stay,  if  I  could  put  up 
with  such  fare  as  they  were  able  to  give  me.  I  thanked 
her,  and  at  once  dismounted  from  my  tired  horse.  She 
then  went  on  to  tell  me  that  her  husband  had  just 
walked  out,  but  would  be  in  directly;  that  I  could  let 
my  horse  stand  till  his  return,  or  put  him  up  myself, 
just  as  I  liked — telling  me,  at  the  same  time,  where  I 
would  find  a  little  corn,  which  I  could  give  him.  I  put 
up  my  horse,  fed  him,  returned  to  the  house,  and  called 
for  something  to  eat.  She  invited  me  to  be  seated, 
while  she  proceeded  to  prepare  supper.  The  house 
consisted  of  two  pens,  with  a  partition-wall  between ; 
in  one  of  these  I  took  my  seat,  while  the  lady  of  the 
house  was  busy  in  the  other,  preparing  supper.  There 
I  sat,  alone,  by  a  small  fire,  which  was  kindled  mainly 
to  drive  away  the  mosquitoes,  as  the  weather  was  warm. 
At  length  night — dark,  heavy  night — came  on;  and 
night  means  something  in  the  swamps  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. 

"I  thought  of  my  home — from  which  I  had  been  ab- 
sent for  months — of  wife  and  children,  and  knew  not 
what  strange  work  disease  and  death  might  have  done 
in  my  absence.  My  thoughts  then  turned  upon  my 
own  situation.  I  was  in  the  wildest  spot  of  the  waste 
portions  of  Arkansas;  and,  though  weary  with  travel, 
there -was  still  a  considerable  journey  before  me.  At 
length  the  darkness  of  the  night,  like  a  sable  curtain, 
closed  in  around  me,  as  black  as  ink,  while  the  owls 
commenced  a  hobgoblin -like  serenade;  and,  of  all 
sounds  in  the  world,  their  hooting  is  to  me  the  most 
hateful  and  lonely.  Having  learned,  when  a  boy,  that 
the  Indians,  when  at  war  with  the  whites,  were  in  the 
habit  of  using  the  complaining  cry  of  the  owl  as  their 
signal  when  about  to  make  an  attack  upon  the  habita- 
15* 


346  AN   ARKANSAS   STORY. 

tion  of  the  white  man  from  different  directions,  I  never 
hear  its  cry  but  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  the  precursor 
of  some  secret  enemy. 

"Suddenly  the  thought  came  to  my  mind,  Where  can 
the  man  of  the  house  be?  'Just  walked  out!' — so  said 
his  wife.  He  could  not  have  gone  to  visit  a  neighbor; 
for  there  was  no  neighbor  to  visit.  He  could  not  be 
hunting ;  the  darkness  of  the  night  forbids  that.  What 
can  he  be  after?  This  question  I  turned  over  in  my 
mind  again  and  again.  At  length  the  impression  got 
hold  upon  me  that  his  absence  was,  in  some  way  or 
other,  ominous  of  evil  to  me;  and  it  was  so  strong  that, 
in  despite  of  me,  I  became  alarmed.  Then  I  remem- 
bered that  I  was  in  the  very  region  of  country  supposed 
to  be  infested  with  robbers,  murderers,  and  runaways, 
and  could  not  avoid  running  over  in  my  mind  the  many 
horrid  accounts  which  I  had  heard  of  murder  and  vio- 
lence, the  scenes  of  which  had  been  laid  in  this  coun- 
try— all  of  which  was  calculated  to  increase  my  alarm, 
until  my  fears  were  fully  and  fairly  upon  me.  I  thought 
of  defense;  but  that  was  out  of  the  question,  for  I  had 
no  weapons,  as  I  had  never  carried  any  thing  in  the 
shape  of  arms  larger  than  a  pocket-knife ;  so  that  my 
head  did  not  feel  so  safe  upon  my  shoulders  as  it  did  an 
hour  before;  and  I  could  not  avoid  asking  myself  the 
question,  What  object  could  any  man  have  in  settling 
in  such  a  place  as  this? — on  one  side,  a  swamp  thirty 
miles  wide,  and  on  the  other  nothing  but  an  unbroken 
forest  for  about  the  same  distance,  surrounded  by  wild 
beasts  and  poisonous  serpents,  and  nearly  devoured  by 
mosquitoes.  There  is  no  farm  here — no  garden.  How 
does  the  man  live?  What  is  his  occupation?  In  answer 
to  these  questions,  with  the  views  and  feelings  which  I 
then  had,  I  came  to  the  judgment  that  he  was  a  robber, 


AN  ARKANSAS   STORY.  347 

and  that  I  was  in  a  robber's  den ;  and  the  only  way  in 
which  I  could  account  for  his  absence  was,  that  I  had 
been  discovered  by  him  during  the  evening  as  I  jour- 
neyed alone,  and  that  he  was  out  somewhere,  probably 
not  far  distant,  in  conclave  wTith  his  clan,  perfecting 
their  plan  of  operation  for  my  destruction.  I  expected, 
on  the  return  of  this  man  to  his  house,  to  find  in  him 
the  personification  of  bloodshed  and  murder.  At  length 
the  sound  of  heavy  footsteps  fell  on  my  ear;  a  moment 
more,  a  tall,  fierce-looking  man  presented  himself  at 
the  door,  and,  with  a  gruff,  coarse  voice,  that  seemed 
almost  to  chill  me,  said,  'Good-evening,  sir.'  He  was 
dressed  in  Kentucky  jeans  coat  and  pantaloons,  with- 
out vest  or  cravat.  His  hair  was  black,  and  inclined  to 
curl,  with  a  rather  heavy  pair  of  whiskers.  As  he  en- 
tered the  door  he  dropped  upon  his  arm  an  immensely 
long  rifle,  and  I  noticed  a  tremendous  knife  attached  to 
the  strap  which  sustained  his  shot-pouch.  He  placed 
his  gun  upon  its  rack,  hung  up  his  pouch,  took  his  seat, 
and  sat  for  some  minutes  perfectly  silent,  during  which 
time  I  observed  him  attentively,  and  judged  him  to  be 
a  man  of  prodigious  strength;  and  while  I  viewed  his 
large,  bony,  sunburnt  hands,  with  his  long  nails,  I  could 
but  think  of  the  talons  of  some  ancient  bird  of  prey, 
and  imagined  that  I  could  almost  see  the  remains  of 
the  stains  of  blood  upon  them.  'And  you  are  a  robber,' 
thought  I,  'and  look  just  as  I  should  suppose  a  robber 
would  look.'  At  this  moment  another  member  of  the 
family,  whom  I  had  not  before  seen,  presented  herself 
— a  little  girl  about  ten  years  of  age,  who  proved  to  bo 
the  only  child.  She  was  evidently  doted  on  by  her 
father,  and  came  in  for  his  caresses;  and  I  am  not  mis- 
taken when  I  say  that  she  was  beautiful  and  neatly 
dressed.  And  when  I  saw  her  leaning  on  her  father's 


348  AN   ARKANSAS   STORY. 

shoulders,  and  running  her  fingers  through  his  hair, 
and  heard  him  speak  to  her  in  a  subdued  tone  of  voice, 
and  with  a  smile  upon  his  countenance,  the  thought 
came  up,  Can  a  robber  love?  and  then  I  pitied  the 
child,  that  she  should  be  known  as  the  daughter  of  a 
robber.  Soon  after,  we  were  invited  into  the  other 
room  to  supper.  I  had  approached  the  table  and  just 
taken  my  seat;  but  seeing  the  little  girl  opposite  to  me 
hesitate  before  she  would  sit  down,  and  directing  her 
eye  toward  her  father  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  I  turned 
my  attention  that  way,  when,  to  my  utter  astonish- 
ment, there  was  the  man,  whom  up  to  that  moment  I 
had  looked  upon  as  a  highway  robber,  with  his  ey^ 
closed  and  his  hands  uplifted,  just  in  the  act  of  com- 
mencing to  ask  God  to  bless  us,  and  the  provision  be- 
fore us  to  our  good !  For  a  moment  I  could  scarcely 
believe  my  own  senses;  I  looked  again,  and  either  my 
optics  or  the  man  himself  had  undergone  a  most  aston- 
ishing change.  His  countenance  was  open,  honest, 
frank;  his  eyes  were,  calm  and  benignant;  and  when 
he  spoke  to  me  and  said,  'Now,  do  help  yourself  to 
any  thing  which  you  see  before  you,'  his  voice  seemed 
as  the  voice  of  a  friend,  and  its  tones  were  those  of 
confidence  and  kindness,  and  my  appetite,  which  had 
given  way  under  my  apprehensions  of  evil,  was  in- 
stantly restored,  and  I  partook  bountifully  of  the  pro- 
visions of  the  table,  which,  every  thing  considered, 
were  remarkably  good.  The  Lord  knows  that  was  the 
greatest  blessing  I  ever  heard. 

"After  supper  we  joined  in  familiar  conversation, 
and  I  found  him  to  be  a  man  of  good  natural  mind 
and  general  information.  He  told  me  that  he  had  but 
;i  short  time  previous  emigrated  from  the  State  of 
Kentucky,  where  he  was  a  member  of  the  Methodist 


AN   ARKANSAS   STORY.  349 

Church,  and  I  think  he  said  he  was  a  class-leader; 
that  he  had  settled  at  the  place  where  he  then  lived  in 
order  to  superintend  the  opening  of  a  road  through  the 
swamp,  which  work  was  soon  to  commence.  He  in 
turn  learned  from  me  that  I  had  a  wife  and  children  at 
home,  from  whom  I  had  been  separated  for  months. 
In  fact,  I  told  him  all  about  myself,  for  he  really  felt  to 
me  almost  like  a  brother. 

"At  length  he  observed  that  he  supposed  I  was 
weary,  and  wished  to  retire  to  rest,  but  went  on  to  say 
that  it  was  his  custom  to  pray  night  and  morning  in 
his  little  family,  but  that  I  could  retire  at  once,  or  re- 
majn  till  after  prayer.  I  had  gained  too  much  Toy  a 
blessing  to  deny  myself  the  benefit  of  a  prayer.  He 
read  a  portion  of  Scripture,  and  we  all  bowed  down 
together,  and  I  at  least,  for  once  in  my  life,  got  upon 
my  knees  with  a  right  good  grace. 

"And  while  he  prayed  to  Almighty  God  to  bless  the 
weary  traveler  who  was  under  his  roof,  to  preserve  his 
life  and  health,  and  bring  him  in  safety  to  the  bosom 
of  his  family,  and  that  his  wife  and  little  ones  might 
be  kept  in  peace  against  his  coming — if  I  were  to  say, 
gentlemen,  that  my  eyes  grew  more  moist  than  usual,  I 
should  tell  no  lie;  in  fact,  I  wept  freely,  and  larger, 
purer  tears  never  fell  from  my  eyes.  Gentlemen,  there 
is  a  reality  in  religion,  and  it  is  useless  to  deny  it;  for, 
after  all  the  fear  and  dreadful  apprehensions  of  evil 
with  which  I  had  been  troubled  during  the  evening, 
Napoleon's  army  in  its  glory  could  not  have  made  me 
feel  so  safe  and  secure  during  the  night  as  did  the 
blessing  and  prayer  of  that  man ;  and  there  are  mo- 
ments that  come  up  in  the  history  of  every  man,  in 
which  the  claims  of  Christianity  are  felt,  whether  ac- 
knowledged or  not." 


350  AN  INDIAN   LEGEND. 

From  the  conclusion  to  which  he  came — that  there  is 
a  reality  in  the  Christian  religion,  and  that  it  was  use- 
less to  deny  it — I  was  pleased  to  find  that  there  was 
not  one  present  disposed  to  dissent.  18,i8. 


AN  INDIAN  LEGEND. 

THERE  is  no  small  difficulty  in  obtaining  correct  in- 
formation as  to  those  things  that  make  up  the  true 
character  of  Indians.  They  are  secretive,  distrustful, 
and,  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  generally  silent;  so 
that,  by  traveling  through  a  tribe,  very  little  informa- 
tion can  be  obtained.  Those  only  are  prepared  to  gain 
a  correct  knowledge  of  Indian  character  who  have  be- 
come identified  with  them,  and  lived  a  sufficient  length 
of  time  with  a  tribe  to  enable  them  to  observe  their 
peculiar  customs  and  habits  at  different  seasons  of  the 
year. 

The  legend  to  which  I  shall  direct  the  attention  of 
the  reader  is  intimately  connected  with  a  pastime 
which  used  to  be  more  common  among  the  aborigines 
of  this  country  than  at  present.  It  was  the  only  kind 
of  gambling  that  I  observed  in  the  tribes  with  which 
I  have  been  acquainted — "the  ball-play."  It  is  not 
only  a  game  of  hazard,  but  a  sport  of  the  most  manly 
character.  The  play  is  not  of  frequent  occurrence,  but 
when  it  does  come  off,  it  always  produces  considerable 
excitement,  sometimes  being  the  occasion  of  the  as- 
semblage of  thousands  of  persons.  I  will  attempt  a 
description  of  these  plays,  numbers  of  which  I  have 
witnessed. 

The  contending  parties  always  consist  of  twelve  on 
aside — twenty-four  in  all;  chosen  men,  selected  from 


AN   INDIAN   LEGEND.  351 

among  the  most  athletic  in  the  nation.  Each  side  is 
headed  by  one  who  is  captain,  or  principal  man.  The 
ball  used  on  such  occasions  is  generally  made  of  the 
common  spunk  obtained  from  the  knots  of  trees,  or 
some  soft,  dry  root,  rounded ;  and  in  either  case  it  is 
always  covered  with  dressed  buckskin,  and  about  the 
size  of  a  walnut  with  the  hull  on.  The  ball  is  never 
to  be  touched  with  the  hands,  but  is  caught,  held,  and 
thrown  with  a  set  of  sticks  made  expressly  for  the 
purpose.  The  ball-stick  is  made  in  the  following  man- 
ner: A  piece  of  tough  wood  about  six  feet  long  and 
near  the  size  of  a  walking-stick  is  selected ;  midway 
of  the  stick  it  is  reduced  to  about  one-half  the  size  of 
the  ends,  then  bent  until  these  ends  are  brought  to- 
gether, forming  a  bow,  or  something  in  shape  like  the 
bowl  of  a  spoon.  The  two  ends  are  wrapped  together 
from  the  bowl  with  a  leather  string,  so  as  to  form  a 
handle;  the  bowl  being  made  by  fastening  buckskin 
strings  to  the  wood,  and  crossing  each  other,  forming 
small  meshes,  and  left  loose  so  as  to  bag  a  little.  The 
ball-stick  when  finished,  may  be  compared  to  a  spoon, 
with  a  handle  nearly  three  feet  long  and  a  bowl  about 
the  size  of  a  man's  hand.  Each  man  has  two  sticks — 
one  in  each  hand. 

When  the  surface  of  the  land  is  suitable,  the  play- 
ground is  generally  laid  off  from  east  to  west,  and  four 
poles  are  placed  from  a  quarter  to  half  a  mile  from 
each  other.  The  two  poles  at  each  end  of  the  play- 
ground are  set  up  about  twenty  paces  apart,  and  the 
ball  has  to  pass  between  them  for  each  count  of  one  in 
the  game.  Across  the  center  of  the  ground  a  line  is 
drawn ;  the  players  who  wish  to  drive  the  ball  between 
the  western  poles  taking  their  position  about  twenty 
yards  east  of  this  line,  while  their  contestants  occupy 


352  AN   INDIAN   LEGEND. 

a  like  stand  on  the  opposite  side.  When  the  two  cap- 
tains take  their  position  at  the  division  line  the  ball  is 
placed  upon  the  ground  on  this  center  line.  It  is  then 
taken  up  by  one  of  these  captains,  with  his  sticks,  and 
thrown  up  thirty  or  forty  feet;  which  is  the  signal  for 
the  opening  of  the  game.  As  the  ball  descends  these 
two  leaders  contend  for  it,  each  bounding  as  high  as  he 
can  to  catch  it  in  its  descent;  their  sticks  rattling  and 
cracking  together  in  the  contest.  When  these  captains 
are  about  equally  matched  in  strength  and  expertness 
in  the  game,  the  struggle  may  be  long  and  fierce,  and 
is  continued  until  both  become  exhausted,  before  get- 
ing  the  ball  started  toward  either  of  the  poles.  At 
other  times  the  ball  is  caught  in  its  descent,  and  hurled 
with  great  rapidity  toward  the  poles;  but  no  matter 
what  direction  it  takes,  it  is  to  meet  the  opposition  of 
eleven  players  who  have  taken  their  stand  in  that  di- 
rection, by  one  of  whom  it  is  sure  to  be  caught  and 
hurled  back;  and  I  have  seen  it  pass  back  and  forth  in 
this  way  for  minutes  together.  At  other  times  I  have 
seen  the  whole  twenty-four  contending  pell-mell  to- 
gether for  several  seconds,  while  a  spectator  could  not 
tell  where  the  ball  was.  Again,  I  have  seen  the  whole 
party  take  a  right-angular  direction  to  the  poles,  in 
consequence  of  the  hand  being  interrupted  at  the  mo- 
ment of  throwing  the  ball,  and  thus  work  away  until 
they  were  entirely  without  the  limits  of  the  play- 
ground and  had  to  be  recalled  by  the  judges. 

There  is  no  time  for  resting  from  the  moment  the 
ball  is  thrown  up  at  the  center  line  until  it  passes  be- 
tween the  poles  at  one  or  the  other  end  of  the  grounds, 
unless  the  judges  call  them  oif  for  recess;  and  never 
have  I  seen  human  beings  so  much  fatigued  as  at  the 
end  of  one  of  these  strains. 


AN   INDIAN    LEGEND.  353 

One  thing  extremely  objectionable  in  these  plays  is 
this:  Any  one  of  the  party  is  allowed  to  "double  up" 
his  antagonist,  notwithstanding  they  are  not  permitted 
to  strike,  scratch,  or  bruise  each  other  in  any  way;  yet 
the  practice  they  have  of  doubling  each  other  is  very 
injurious,  and  is  done  in  the  following  manner:  One 
will  catch  his  antagonist,  throw  him  upon  his  back, 
take  him  by  the  feet,  elevate  them,  and  press  his  head 
and  shoulders  upon  the  ground  until  the  "poor  fellow 
is  disabled  in  the  back.  This  practice  results  some- 
times in  rendering  the  player  so  utterly  helpless  that 
he  has  to  be  carried  off  the  grounds. 

The  only  clothing  worn  in  a  ball-play  is  the  belt,  with 
a  piece  of  some  kind  of  goods  about  eighteen  inches 
square  appended  in  front;  but  they  generally  come 
out  of  these  games,  so  far  as  clothing  is  concerned, 
about  as  they  came  into  the  world. 

There  are  always  in  reserve  the  same  number  that 
are  engaged  in  the  play,  so  that  when  one  is  disabled 
another  may  take  his  place,  and  thus  the  full  number 
of  twenty-four  be  kept  up.  There  are  two  sets  of 
judges — six  for  and  six  against,  who  take  their  posi- 
tions at  the  poles  at  each  end  of  the  ground.  The  ball 
has  to  pass  twelve  times  between  the  same  poles  before 
the  game  is  finished. 

The  following  is  the  legend  to  which  I  wish  to  direct 
the  attention  of  the  reader:  Long  ago  the  Shawnees 
and  Osages  were  neighbors,  and  were  decidedly  two  of 
the  most  powerful  tribes  in  all  the  West,  both  as  war- 
riors and  hunters.  The  line  dividing  these  two  na- 
tions, according  to  tradition,  was  somewhere  about  the 
Plattc  River.  These  two  tribes  agreed  to  meet  in  a  na- 
tional ball -play.  The  stakes  were  a  strip  of  country 
bordering  on  the  line,  the  whole  length  of  the  line, 


354  AN  INDIAN   LEGEND. 

and  a  day's  journey  in  width,  which  is  about  twelve 
miles.  The  reader  may  think  it  strange  that  a  day's 
journey  among  the  Indians  is  so  short  a  distance,  when 
it  is  known  that  an  Indian  can  travel  from  forty  to 
fifty  miles  in  a  day.  An  ordinary  day's  journey  is  the 
distance  that  a  hunting-party  will  travel  in  a  day 
with  their  wives,  children,  and  luggage,  which  will 
range  from  ten  to  fifteen  miles.  They  seldom  make 
more  than  one  stage  in  the  day,  and  being  naturally 
indolent,  they  are  certain  to  stop  as  soon  as  they  be- 
come tired;  and  wherever  an  Indian  pitches  his  tent 
ho  will  spend  at  least  one  night. 

This  national  ball-play  was  an  occasion  of  no  com- 
mon interest;  no  doubt  a  great  proportion  of  both  na- 
tions was  present,  and  possibly  thousands  from  neigh- 
boring tribes  were  also  in  attendance.  The  poles  were 
the  distance  of  four  arrow-shots  apart.  An  arrow-shot 
is  about  four  hundred  yards,  if  the  hunting-bow  is 
meant,  and  about  two  hundred  with  the  war-bow.  The 
war-bow  is  sprung  by  the  hand  alone,  consequently  it 
has  not  more  than  half  the  force  of  the  hunting-bow, 
which  requires  the  strength  of  the  hands  and  the  feet; 
the  Indian,  sitting  upon  the  ground,  placing  his  feet 
against  the  bow,  takes  hold  of  the  string  with  both 
hands  at  the  point  where  the  arrow  is  applied,  so  that 
the  strength  of  the  whole  body  is  employed  in  spring- 
ing the  bow.  The  genuine  Indian  hunting-bow  is, 
therefore,  an  instrument  of  prodigious  power,  with 
which  they  are  able  to  shoot  an  arrow  entirely  through 
a  buffalo  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards.  As  it  is 
most  likely  that  the  hunting-bow  is  meant,  the  dis- 
tance must  have  been  about  one  mile.  The  game  is 
said  to  have  lasted  a  moon  and  a  day,  and  the  prize 
to  have  been  won  by  the  Osages. 


AN  INDIAN  LEGEND.  855 

In  the  portion  of  country  won  by  the  Osages  there 
was  buried  the  mother  of  the  chief  of  the  Shawnee 
nation,  and  with  her  much  of  her  wealth,  such  as 
embroidered  leather  and  wampum,  the  latter  being 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  beads — no  matter  what 
they  are  composed  of — and  such  pearl  as  they  were 
able  to  obtain  from  shells.  The  Shawnee  chief  no 
doubt  often  thought  that  if  the  Osages  knew  of  the  val- 
uables which  were  buried  with  his  mother  they  would 
disinter  her  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  them. 

This  chief  awoke  one  morning  and  sat  upon  his  mat 
and  wept.  All  knew  that  he  was  in  deep  sorrow,  for 
tears  are  not  often  shed  by  an  Indian  chief;  yet  no  one 
spoke  to  him  or  asked  any  question  in  regard  to  his 
distress,  for  it  is  the  custom  among  Indians  not  to 
annoy  any  one  with  questions  at  such  a  time.  He  con- 
tinued fasting  and  weeping  until  about  sunset,  when 
he  issued  an  order  for  the  assembling  of  the  men  of 
the  lodges  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,  to  whom  he 
distributed  the  wampum  of  war,  which  is  a  string  of 
beads  stained  with  blood. 

When  a  chief  puts  the  wampum  of  war  into  the 
hands  of  a  warrior  for  distribution,  there  is  no  time  to 
be  lost.  If  he  should  be  found  closing  the  eyes  of  his 
dying  father,  or  taking  a  bride,  no  matter,  he  must  go, 
and  go  instantly.  Mountains  and  rivers  may  bo  in  his 
way,  still  the  dispatch  has  to  go,  and  the  message  put 
into  his  hands  always  states  the  names  and  the  num- 
bers of  the  chiefs  to  be  visited. 

In  three  days  there  was  a  sufficient  number  of  chiefs 
assembled  to  hold  a  council  of  war.  They  came  and 
took  their  seats  around  the  afflicted  chief,  and  sat  in 
profound  silence  like  the  comforters  of  old  who  came 
to  condole  with  Job.  After  sitting  thus  for  one  day 


356  AN  INDIAN   LEGEND. 

looking  upon  each  other,  the  disconsolate  chief  at  last 
made  signs  for  his  pipe,  which  was  lighted  and  handed 
him.  He  took  a  few  whiffs,  started  it  around  the  cir- 
cle, and  then  broke  the  long  silence  by  saying: 

"Five  nights  ago,  when  deep  sleep  was  upon  me,  my 
mother  came  to  me  wet  with  the  dews  of  the  night, 
and  told  me  that  the  Osages  had  driven  her  from  her 
resting-place  and  robbed  her  of  her  treasures,  and  that 
she  would  never  rest  again  until  she  was  avenged  upon 
her  enemies.  I  tried -to  awake,  but  could  not!  My 
mother  seemed  grieved  that  I  did  not  arouse,  and  up- 
braided me  for  sleeping,  while  she  had  no  place  to  rest 
her  head,  but,  like  a  wild  beast,  had  to  roam  about  the 
woods  without  a  shelter;  and  she  then  asked  me  if  I 
had  forgotten  the  paps  that  gave  me  suck,  the  arms  in 
which  I  was  so  often  embraced,  and  the  hands  which 
directed  my  steps  in  early  childhood.  Again  I  tried  to 
awake,  but  could  not;  my  sleep  seemed  heavy — like 
the  sleep  of  a  stone.  Then  my  mother  came  nearer 
and  leaned  over  me,  and,  looking  down  upon  me  with 
tears  in  her  old  eyes,  laid  her  cold,  damp  hand  upon 
my  arm — the  touch  was  like  that  of  frost;  and  the 
tears  from  her  eyes  which  fell  upon  me  were  freezing 
cold.  The  blood  in  my  veins  all  got  chilly  and  ran 
back  upon  my  heart,  and,  thinking  I  was  dying,  I  made 
a  mighty  struggle  and  sprang  from  my  bed.  Taking 
me  by  the  hand,  my  mother  led  me  to  see  what  the  en- 
emy had  done  to  her.  It  was  winter — there  was  much 
snow  on  the  ground.  We  went  over  mountains  and 
wide  prairies;  the  wind  roared  around  me  so  that  I 
could  scarcely  hear  anything;  while  she  carried  me 
so  fast  I  could  not  see  any  thing  clearly  until  I  got  to 
her  grave.  I  found  it  uncovered,  and  all  the  treas- 
ures gone.  My  heart  got  sick,  and  I  began  to  weep. 


AN  INDIAN  LEGEND.  357 

My  mother  said  to  me,  'Are  you  not  a  man,  a  warrior? 
why  should  you  weep?  yonder  is  the  enemy;  go  and 
punish  him!'  I  looked,  and  saw  the  Osages  dancing 
and  singing,  wearing  the  jewels  of  my  mother.  In  a 
moment  the  coldness  passed  off,  I  grew  hot,  my  spirit 
beat  high  within  my  whole  body,  I  became  strong,  and, 
bounding  forward  to  rush  upon  the  enemy,  awoke." 

At  this  one  of  the  chiefs  sprang  to  his  feet  and  said 
he  felt  the  pulses  beating  in  his  bow,  and  that  it  was 
getting  so  strong  that  unless  he  shot  an  arrow  it  would 
break  the  string;  another  declared  that  his  war-club 
was  struggling  so  beneath  his  belt  that  he  had  to  hold 
it  by  both  hands  to  keep  it  from  jumping  out;  while  a 
third  stated  that  his  arrow-head  was  burning  at  such 
a  rate  with  thirst  for  blood  that  it  was  red-hot.  This 
was  followed  by  a  general  war-whoop;  and  in  seven 
days  they  were  down  upon  the  Osages  like  a  thunder- 
clap, and  a  war  commenced  which  lasted  a  hundred 
}rcars. 

This  legend,  if  true,  shows  what  small  matters  may 
give  rise  to  a  long  and  bloody  war;  and  I  doubt  not 
that  there  was  some  original  fact  which  gave  rise  to  it, 
from  the  uniform  manner  in  which  the  story  is  told  by 
Indians  of  different  tribes.  It  is  very  evident  that  the 
Shawnees  have  long  been  accustomed  to  the  art  of  war, 
from  the  fact  that  the  very  first  thing  a  Shawnee 
mother  teaches  her  infant  son  is,  that  he  is  to  be  a  war- 
rior and  a  chief;  so  that  the  Shawnees  are  a  nation  of 
chiefs;  and  it  is  a  singular  fact  that  for  the  last  hun- 
dred years  or  more,  whenever  two  Indian  tribes  have 
been  at  war,  Shawnee  chiefs  have  led  their  warriors  to 
battle  on  both  sides.  War  seems  to  be  their  trade,  and 
they  work  wherever  they  can  get  a  job;  and  at  one 
time  no  kind  of  death  was  considered  honorable  by  n 


358  A   WESTERN   STORY. 

Shawnee  but  that  of  being  killed  in  battle.  What  a 
poor  creature  is  man  when  left  to  the  dictates  of  nat- 
ure! and  behold  "how  great  a  matter  a  little  fire  kin- 
dleth!"  1847. 


A  WESTERN  STORY. 

GEORGIA  is  one  of  the  warm,  cotton-producing  States, 
the  white  population  of  which  fill  the  offices  in  Church 
and  State,  and  transact  the  mercantile  business  of  the 
country. 

Mr.  Henry  Lossley  was  the  son  of  a  gentleman  who 
was  in  but  moderate  circumstances.  He  was  reared 
among  Southern  planters,  and  received  a  fair  educa- 
tion and  some  knowledge  of  book-keeping,  having 
spent  a  few  months  at  the  house  of  IN".,  in  the  town  of 
A.  In  the  nineteenth  year  of  his  age  he  became  at- 
tached to  Miss  Mary  Lansing — a  lady  of  some  accom- 
plishments and  great  personal  beauty,  but  whose  patri- 
mony was  small.  Mr.  Lossley  and  Miss  Lansing  were 
frequently  in  each  other's  company,  and  every  time 
they  met  their  mutual  fondness  increased.  They  often 
spoke  of  their  affection  for  each  other,  and  lamented 
that  their  prospects  were  not  such  as  to  justify  a  con- 
nection for  life.  Thus  matters  went  on  with  them  for 
several  years,  until  at  length,  finding  it  impossible  for 
them  to  be  happy  unless  in  each  other's  society,  they 
determined  to  cast  their  lot  together;  and  if  they  should 
not  be  able  to  move  through  life  in  the  style  they  would 
wish,  at  all  events  they  could  support  themselves  de- 
cently; so  they  were  united  by  that  tie  which  is  the 
most  sacred  and  endearing  that  can  be  formed  in  this 
life. 

For  some  months  after  their  union  they  did  not  feel 


A   WESTERN   STORY.  359 

sensible  of  their  want  of  pecuniary  means;  but  it  soon 
became  evident  that  they  would  have  to  gain  support 
by  actual  labor;  and  it  was  also  certain  that  in  that 
country  they  could  not  do  more  than  obtain  a  mere 
subsistence  and  be  without  a  permanent  home;  and 
these  conditions  of  life  they  were  not  willing  to  endure. 
It  was  thought  best  that  Mr.  Lossley  should  travel  into 
a  new  country,  purchase  a  piece  of  land,  make  some 
improvements  on  it,  and  then  return  to  conduct  his 
companion  to  their  new  home.  Many  were  the  anxious 
thoughts  that  filled  their  minds.  The  husband  had  his 
fears  lest  he  should  fail  to  obtain  a  pleasant  home  for 
the  beloved  one  whom  he  was  about  to  leave  behind; 
and  the  wife  already  began  to  count  the  months,  the 
weeks,  and  even  the  days,  she  should  be  left,  as  it  were, 
alone  in  the  world ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  they  both 
looked  forward  to  the  time  when,  in  a  new  country, 
growing  with  its  growth,  and  strengthening  with  its 
strength,  they  should  rise  to  a  state  of  importance  in 
the  world. 

The  time  of  separation  at  last  arrived ;  and  Mr.  Loss- 
ley,  after  embracing  his  best  of  all  earthly  friends,  gave 
the  parting  hand,  and  commenced  his  journey,  not 
knowing  certainly  whither  he  was  going.  He  went  to 
the  State  of  Kentucky,  and  was  about  contracting  for  a 
piece  of  land,  in  the  neighborhood  of  where  the  town 
of  H.  now  stands,  when  he  availed  himself  of  an  op- 
portunity of  writing  a  few  lines  to  his  wife,  to  let  her 
know  where  he  was  and  what  he  was  doing. 

This  letter  never  reached  the  hands  of  the  beloved 
object  for  whom  it  was  intended,  but  fell  into  the  hands 
of  one  whose  name  will  be  "revealed  in  that  day." 
Suffice  it  to  say,  there  was  one  with  whom  Mr.  Lossley 
had  been  a  competitor.  An  answer  came,  not  from  Mrs. 


360  A   WESTERN   STORY. 

Lossley,  but  apparently  from  her  father,  with  whom  she 
remained  during  her  husband's  absence.  O  horrid  let- 
ter! never  shall  its  language  be  forgotten: 

"Dear  Son:  Your  wife  took  sick  about  a  week  after 
your  departure.  At  first  we  did  not  entertain  any  fears 
concerning  her.  After  some  days  her  brain  became 
affected,  and  she  lost  her  reason,  and  while  in  this  situ- 
ation called  every  person  who  was  in  attendance  upon 
her  and  came  to  visit  her,  'Henry!'  A  short  time  be- 
fore her  death  she  came  to  herself,  and  seemed  to  have 
but  one  desire  to  live,  which  was  to  see  you;  and  her 
last  sentence  was,  'O  my  dear  Henry!  and  shall  I  see 
him  no  more  in  this  life?'  and  breathed  her  last." 

On  the  reception  of  this  letter  Mr.  Lossley  became 
almost  desperate  His  whole  amount  of  earthly  good 
seemed  to  be  cut  off  at  one  stroke.  He  made  several 
attempts  to  answer  the  letter,  but  found  it  impossible 
to  write  on  so  painful  a  subject.  He  became  a  solitary 
man — being  in  a  land  of  strangers — and  had  no  person 
to  whom  he  could  unbosom  himself;  and  though  grief 
is  fond  of  company,  yet  he  had  to  bear  his  alone.  The 
thought  of  returning  to  the  place  where  he  had  so  often 
beheld  the  fair  face  and  lovely  form  of  his  now  lost 
Mary,  without  being  able  to  see  her,  he  could  not  en- 
dure; and  having  left  but  little  behind  save  his  com- 
panion that  was  of  any  consequence  to  him,  he  gave  up 
the  idea  of  returning.  Neither  had  he  any  disposition 
to  locate  himself;  and  finding  that  he  could  better  sus- 
tain his  grief  by  traveling  than  in  any  other  way,  he 
wandered  off,  without  any  settled  point  of  destination. 
At  length  he  found  himself  at  the  Lead  Mines  in  Mis- 
souri; but  he  yet  beheld  objects  that  reminded  him  of 
his  loss,  which  induced  him  to  sink  still  deeper  into  the 
bosom  of  the  great  forest.  So  he  joined  himself  to  a 


A   WESTERN   STORY.  361 

company  of  fur-traders,  and  shaped  his  course  for  the 
Rocky  Mountains. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  company  to  post  a  watch  at 
night — a  duty  which  was  performed  by  each  man  in  his 
turn — and  for  some  time  Lossley  volunteered  his  serv- 
ices every  night;  so  that  while  his  companions  were 
asleep  he  would  look  on  the  moon  and  stars  that  once 
shone  on  him  and  his  fair  one  leaning  on  his  arm.  when 
they  used  to  take  their  evening  excursions.  The  scream 
of  the  panther  did  not  disturb  him,  while  for  the  lam- 
entations of  the  owl  he  had  a  particular  fondness;  and 
for  months  rarely  did  he  depart  from  a  camping-place 
without  leaving  the  letters  "M.  L."  on  one  of  the  pre- 
viously unscarred  trees  of  the  forest. 

He  remained  nearly  two  years  among  the  North- 
western Indians.  The  hardships  he  endured,  and  the 
dangers  through  which  he  passed,  had  a  tendency  to 
divert  his  mind  from  former  sorrows,  and  the  females 
that  he  sometimes  looked  upon  were  so  unlike  his 
Mary  that  by  the  time  he  returned  to  Missouri  he  had 
in  some  degree  regained  his  former  cheerfulness.  But 
no  sooner  did  he  enter  the  settlements,  where  he  again 
beheld  fair  faces  and  graceful  forms,  than  a  recollection 
of  his  departed  glory  returned.  The  roll  of  years, 
however,  wore  away  his  grief;  and  at  last  finding  an 
object  upon  whom  he  could  place  his  affections,  he 
again  entered  into  a  married  connection.  From  the 
time  that  he  left  his  companion  in  Georgia  until  he 
married  his  second  wife  was  about  five  years. 

But  what  shall  we  say  of  Mrs.  Lossley?  for,  strange 
to  tell,  she  yet  lived.  Weeks,  months,  and  years  had 
rolled  by,  but  had  brought  no  tidings  of  her  absent 
husband.  Post-offices  were  examined,  but  no  letter 
came;  his  name  was  looked  for  in  the  public  prints,  but 
16 


362  A    WESTERN   STORY. 

could  not  bo  found;  travelers  were  inquired  of,  but  to 
no  avail — not  a  word  could  she  hear  of  him.  At  length 
she  gave  him  up  as  dead,  and  conceived  of  his  death  in 
many  ways.  At  one  time  she  would  fancy  she  could 
see  his  bones  at  the  bottom  of  some  stream  in  which  he 
had  been  drowned  while  attempting  to  cross;  again  she 
could  see  him  in  some  lonely  spot,  murdered  by  rob- 
bers or  destroyed  by  Indian  violence;  and  at  other 
times  she  saw  him  languish  on  some  foreign  bed,  and 
after  a  lingering  illness  fall  into  an  obscure  grave  among 
strangers.  A  thousand  times  she  looked  out  the  way 
she  saw  him  depart,  and  mourned  him  dead  till  time 
had  dried  away  her  tears. 

After  the  lapse  of  more  than  seven  years  from  the 
departure  of  Mr.  Lossley,  Mr.  Starks  offered  his  hand 
in  marriage  to  Mrs.  Lossley;  and  as  it  was  firmly  be- 
lieved by  herself  and  friends  that  Mr.  Lossley  was 
dead,  and  Mr.  Starks  being  a  gentleman  worthy  of  her, 
she  accepted  the  offer,  and  they  were  married. 

At  this  time  Mr.  Lossley  was  living  with  his  second 
wife  in  the  State  of  Missouri,  where  he  continued  to 
live  for  nearly  eighteen  years.  About  fourteen  years 
after  his  marriage  his  second  wife  died,  and  he  was  left 
with  two  children — a  son  and  a  daughter.  The  daugh- 
ter was  the  eldest,  and  took  charge  of  her  father's 
house;  but  in  little  more  than  three  j'ears  after  the 
death  of  her  mother  she  married,  and  removed  to  North 
Alabama,  and  her  father  and  little  brother  went  with 
her. 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Starks  had  lost  her  husband 
and  father,  and  having  but  one  child — a  little  daughter 
— she  also  removed  to  North  Alabama,  to  live  with  an 
aged  uncle,  who  resided  in  that  part  of  the  country; 
so  that  Mr.  Lossley  and  Mrs.  Starks  became  neighbors, 


A   WESTERN   STORY.  363 

and  they  again  became  acquainted  with  each  other  as 
Col.  Lossley  (this  title  he  had  obtained  while  among 
the  fur-traders)  and  Mrs.  Starks.  They  soon  formed  a 
friendship  for  each  other,  and  Col.  Lossley  eventually 
offered  her  his  hand  in  marriage,  which  she  accepted. 
It  is  to  be  observed  that  during  the  whole  of  their  in- 
tercourse they  both  took  great  care  never  to  mention 
any  circumstance  connected  with  their  first  marriage, 
and  hoth  passed  for  having  been  married  but  once. 
They  had  been  so  very  cautious  on  this  subject  that  not 
the  slightest  trace  of  their  former  acquaintance  was 
discovered  until  the  night  before  the  marriage  was  to 
have  been  solemnized. 

Perhaps  the  sacred  font  of  their  former  sorrows  was 
too  deeply  sealed  to  be  readily  broken  up  again  by 
either  of  them. 

The  night  before  marriage,  as  they  were  conversing 
alone,  the  Colonel  remarked  that  he  expected  to  be  a 
little  frightened  on  the  next  evening,  adding,  "With 
me,  the  older  the  worse;  for  when  I  was  married  the 
first  time  I  was  not  so  much  embarrassed  as  when  I 
was  married  last."  To  which  Mrs.  Starks  replied, 
"You  have  been  married  twice,  it  seems."  The  Colonel 
tried  at  first  to  change  the  subject  of  the  conversation, 
but  soon  found  that  would  not  do;  and  knowing  it 
would  have  to  come  out,  soon  or  late,  he  went  into  a 
detail  of  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  his  first 
marriage,  giving  names  and  dates.  This  was  a  subject 
on  which  the  Colonel  was  eloquent.  He  said  that  his 
long-lost  Mary  was  never  out  of  his  mind  for  one  hour 
at  a  time,  and  cited  the  fact  that  he  often  spoke  of  her 
to  those  who  had  never  heard  of  her,  and  could  not 
enter  into  the  conversation  with  him.  He  went  on  to 
state  that  she  was  his  Rachel — his  first  choice — the 


364  A  WESTERN   STORY. 

companion  of  his  youth;  having  taken  hold  upon  his 
affections  at  such  an  early  age,  the  impression  was  in- 
delible, and  the  memory  of  her  name  never  could  be 
erased  from  his  mind.  "And  though,"  said  he,  "I  have 
passed  through  the  town,  the  country,  the  wilderness, 
through  winter,  through  summer,  amid  friends  and 
foes,  through  health  and  afflictions,  through  smiles  and 
frowns,  yet  I  have  ever  borne  painted  upon  my  imag- 
ination the  image  of  my  beloved  Mary."  Here  the 
tears  began  to  gather  in  the  eyes  of  the  Colonel,  and 
for  a  few  moments  a  death-like  stillness  prevailed.  At 
length,  looking  upon  his  intended  bride,  he  saw  that 
she  had  taken  more  than  usual  interest  in  the  story 
he  had  been  relating.  He  then  broke  the  silence  by 
saying,  "You  must  forgive  me  for  the  kind  remem- 
brance I  bear  for  the  beloved  companion  of  my  youth." 
While  he  was  uttering  this  sentence,  Mrs.  Starks 
swooned  away,  and  would  have  fallen  from  her  seat 
had  not  the  Colonel  supported  her.  While  she  lay  in 
this  death-like  state  many  were  the  reflections  which 
passed  through  the  mind  of  Col.  Lossley,  especially  the 
thought  that  as  he  had  for  a  time  kept  this  secret  from 
her,  and  had  at  last  divulged  it  without  intending  to  do 
so,  it  might  have  a  tendency  to  destroy  her  confidence 
in  him,  or  cause  her  to  fear  that  his  affections  were  so 
much  placed  upon  the  memory  of  his  first  wife  that  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  love  her  as  he  ought. 
This  and  many  other  thoughts  rushed  through  his 
mind,  and  he  but  awaited  the  return  of  the  power  of 
utterance  to  Mrs.  Starks  to  hear  her  renounce  him  for- 
ever. But,  O  how  groundless  were  his  fears!  No 
sooner  was  she  aroused  from  her  swoon  than  she  threw 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  and,  resting  her  head  upon 
his  bosom,  sobbed  like  a  child,  crying  out,  "O  my  hus- 


A  STRANGER'S  GRAVE.  365 

band!  my  husband!"  The  Colonel,  much  astonished, 
rather  hastily  inquired  what  she  meant.  With  her 
hands  still  resting  on  his  shoulders,  with  a  countenance 
beaming  with  joy  and  suffused  with  tears,  and  with  a, 
half-choked  utterance,  she  exclaimed,  "I  am  your  Mary, 
your  long-lost  Mary!  and  you  are  my  Henry,  whom  I 
have  mourned  as  dead  these  twenty  years!" 

The  joy  then  became  mutual.  That  night  and  the 
next  day  were  spent  in  relating  the  events  which  had 
occurred  to  them  during  their  separation,  and  in  ad- 
miring the  Providence  that  had  reunited  them.  On 
the  next  evening  those  bidden  to  the  marriage  assem- 
bled; the  parson  came — but  there  was  no  ceremony  to 
be  performed.  The  transported  couple  informed  the 
guests  that  they  had  been  lawfully  married  upward  of 
twenty  years  before,  and  gave  a  brief  outline  of  their 
history,  and  entered  into  the  hilarity  of  the  evening 
with  a  degree  of  cheerfulness  unusual  to  them  both; 
and  I  will  close  by  saying  they  are  now  doing  well  for 
time  and  for  eternity.  1335. 


A  STRANGER'S  GRAVE. 

A  FEW  evenings  ago  I  took  a  walk  in  the  town  of 

C .     In  my  ramble  I  passed  the  solemn  place  where 

the  dead  are  buried,  which  is  not  where  it  should  be. 
Although  in  the  early  improvement  of  the  place  it  was 
some  distance  from  any  residence,  its  solitude  and  so- 
lemnity are  now  interrupted  by  the  beauties  of  art 
and  the  mansions  of  the  living,  which  surround  it.  As 
I  turned  to  gaze  for  a  few  moments  upon  the  monu- 
ments which  speak  of  departed  worth,  I  beheld  two 
servants  in  silence  preparing  a  new  grave,  and,  upon 


366  A  STRANGER'S  GRAVE. 

inquiring  who  was  to  be  buried  there,  was  informed 
that  it  was  a  Mr.  B.,  a  stranger,  who  had  neither  family, 
relation,  nor  friend,  except  those  friends  he  had  made 
during  a  short  sojourn  in  a  strange  land.  I  pursued 
my  walk,  spent  a  social  hour  with  a  friend,  and  then 
passed  on  to  an  humble  cottage,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  were  deeply  afflicted,  but  breathing  the  spirit 
of  submission,  devotion,  and  happiness — treasures 
often  deposited  with  the  poor  beneath  dark  clouds  of 
affliction.  After  participating  in  the  joys  of  this  fam- 
ily, who  were  "rich  in  faith,"  and  feeling  that  it  was 
good  to  "go  to  the  house  of  mourning,"  I  returned  to 
my  room,  forgetful  of  the  departed  stranger,  until  the 
tolling  of  the  bell  the  next  morning  announced  the 
approach  of  the  hearse,  followed  by  a  few  gentlemen 
in  slow  procession.  I  accompanied  the  cortege  until 
we  came  to  the  place  of  interment,  when  the  remains 
were  lowered  into  the  grave.  All  was  as  still  as  the 
hush  of  death;  no  expressions  of  sorrow  were  heard; 
no  tears  were  seen  to  fall  and  bedew  the  memory  of 
the  dead;  deep  solemnity  hung  upon  every  counte- 
nance, but  was  only  put  on  for  the  moment,  to  pay  a 
small  tribute  of  respect  to  the  departed  stranger. 
Near  the  grave  stood  a  venerable  man  of  God,  who 
broke  the  silence  by  making  a  few  appropriate  re- 
marks. He  spoke  not  of  the  virtues  or  piety  of  the 
deceased — for  his  sun  went  down  behind  a  cloud;  in 
reference  to  his  follies  he  said,  "We  will  throw  the 
mantle  of  charity  around  these,  and  bury  them  in  ob- 
livion." Of  his  future  state  he  ventured  not  a  word. 
But  to  the  living  he  spoke  of  earth's  poverty,  the  un- 
certainty of  life,  and  the  importance  of  a  preparation 
for  the  great  and  solemn  change  to  which  all  arc  has- 
tening; he  pointed  them  to  the  bar  of  God,  spoke  of 


A  STRANGER'S  GRAVE.  367 

the  dread  realities  of  eternity;  and  then  addressed  the 
throne  of  grace  in  our  behalf;  after  which  the  grave 
was  filled,  and  we  all  silently  withdrew  and  left  the 
stranger  to  his  repose. 

Being  myself  a  stranger  in  the  town,  far  from  the 
place  of  my  nativity,  the  home  of  my  friends,  my  feel- 
ings were  of  rather  a  pensive  character,  and  my  mind 
was  directed  to  the  following  lines  from  Greenwood, 
as  being  in  harmony  with  my  spirit  at  the  time: 

"It  is  a  sad  thing  to  feel  that  we  must  die  away  from 
our  home.  Tell  not  the  invalid  who  is  yearning  after 
his  distant  home  that  the  atmosphere  around  him  is 
soft,  that  the  gales  are  filled  with  balm,  and  the  flowers 
are  springing  from  the  green  earth;  he  knows  that  the 
softest  air  to  his  heart  would  be  the  air  that  hangs  over 
his  native  home;  that  more  grateful  than  all  the  gales 
of  the  South  would  breathe  the  low  whispers  of  anx- 
ious affection  ;  that  the  very  icicles  clinging  to  his  own 
house,  and  the  snow  beating  against  his  own  windows, 
would  be  far  more  pleasant  to  his  eyes  than  the  bloom 
and  verdure  Avhich  only  the  more  forcibly  reminds 
him  how  far  he  is  from  the  one  spot  which  is  dearer  to 
him  than  the  world  beside." 

When  fond  memory  lingers  around  the  place  of  my 
early  joys,  calls  up  the  associations  of  past  life,  and 
leads  me  to  the  homes  of  my  dear  relations  and  nu- 
merous friends  whom  I  have  left  far"  away,  and  when  I 
reflect  upon  the  discouraging  circumstances  with  which 
I  am  often  surrounded,  the  heavy  tide  of  sorrow  passes 
over  my  soul,  and  the  burning  tear  falls  from  my  weep- 
ing eyes.  But  when  I  reflect  that  our  Saviour  was.  a 
stranger  —  an  itinerant  preacher;  that  the  Lord  of 
glory  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head;  that  the  apostles 
labored  and  suffered  to  spread  the  unsearchable  riches 


368  A    TORNADO. 

of  Christ;  and  when  I  turn  my  attention  to  our  fath- 
ers, who  have  gone  as  a  flame  of  fire  in  the  front  of  the 
battle  through  the  great  South-west,  where  I  behold 
the  fields  white  unto  harvest,  and  hear  the  constant 
cry,  "Come  over  and  help  us!"  I  forget  my  privations 
and  sorrows,  and  rejoice  that  I  am  counted  worthy  to 
stand  in  the  front  ranks  of  Israel's  army,  where  I  fear 
not  even  a  stranger's  grave.  1835. 


A  TORNADO. 

As  MANY  descriptions  of  storms  have  been  written,  I 
shall  not  at  present  attempt  any  thing  more  than  a 
brief  account  of  one  of  those  terrible  tornadoes  which 
sometimes  visit  our  part  of  the  country.  These  storms 
generally  occur  about  the  time  the  sun  is  passing  the 
equinox. 

On  Saturday,  March  22, 1  spent  the  day  some  eight  or 
ten  miles  west  of  or  below  Clarksville,  Montgomery 
county.  During  the  morning  the  weather  was  quite 
calm,  and  warm  for  the  season ;  toward  noon  the  clouds 
began  to  fly  swiftly,  and  there  were  occasional  showers 
of  ruin,  very  similar  to  those  with  which  we  are  blessed 
during  the  months  of  April  and  May.  At  about  three 
o'clock  P.M.  the  rain  ceased,  the  wind  subsided,  and 
until  nearly  sunset  there  was  scarcely  a  breath  of  air 
stirring. 

There  was  an  appointment  made  for  preaching  at 
Col.  H.  H.  Bryan's  for  the  night,  which  I  attended. 
About  the  going  down  of  the  sun  I  discovered,  in  a 
westwardly  direction,  an  unusual  accumulation  of 
clouds,  through  which  the  sun  had  been  struggling  for 
hours,  and  which,  after  sunset,  was  fitfully  illuminated 


A   TORNADO.  369 

by  brilliant  flashes  of  lightning;  and  the  moan  of  dis- 
tant thunder  fell  upon  the  ear.  The  congregation  was 
soon  gathered ;  divine  service  commenced,  and  for  more 
than  an  hour  afterward  I  knew  nothing  of  the  progress 
of  the  storm,  except  that  the  lightning  flashed  more 
frequently  and  the  thunder  rolled  heavier.  The  meet- 
ing was  hastened  to  a  close,  that  the  congregation  might 
get  home  before  the  rain  came  on;  some  departed  in 
haste,  and  others,  from  fear  of  being  overtaken  by  the 
storm,  remained.  By  this  time  the  wind  began  to  blow 
violently,  and  seemed  to  be  increasing  in  fury  every 
minute.  At  length  an  unusual  moan,  which  seemed  to 
come  from  the  earth  beneath  my  feet,  attracted  my  at- 
tention. I  went  to  the  door  in  order  to  see,  if  I  could, 
the  appearance  of  the  tumult  without;  and  for  about 
ten  minutes  the  most  awfully  grand  sight  that  I  had 
ever  beheld  passed  before  my  eyes.  The  very  earth 
seemed  to  groan  at  the  approach  of  the  tempest;  the 
lightning-flashes  were  of  such  an  intensity  and  dura- 
tion that  at  times  the  darkness  of  the  night  was  turned 
into  more  than  the  brightness  of  the  day.  There  was 
a  continuous  roll  of  thunder,  broken  every  five  or  ten 
seconds  by  tremendous  peals,  like  signal -guns  of  an 
army  shouting  in  battle.  A  strange-looking  object — I 
scarcely  know  what  to  call  it,  for  it  would  not  convey 
the  idea  to  call  it  a  cloud — came  moving  on  slowly  from 
west  to  east,  like  some  great  giant  with  his  scythe,  cut- 
ting a  broad  swath  through  the  forest-trees,  as  a  reaper 
mows  the  grain  in  a  harvest-field.  I  soon  saw  that  the 
house  which  sheltered  me  would  be  visited  by  only  the 
outer  edge  of  the  storm.  By  the  incessant  glare  of  the 
lightning  I  was  enabled  to  see  the  work  of  the  hurri- 
cane probably  better  than  I  could  have  seen  it  in  the 
day.  During  the  greater  part  of  the  time  it  had  the 
16* 


370  A   TORNADO. 

appearance,  possibly,  of  a  city  on  fire.  The  clouds 
were  heaving  and  tossing  in  every  direction,  like  bil- 
lows of  smoke  issuing  from  burning  buildings;  and 
from  the  earth  to  the  very  heavens  the  air  was  filled 
with  the  branches  of  trees  and  other  objects  gathered 
by  the  tornado  in  its  march.  In  its  front  ranks  the 
most  wonderful  operations  were  to  be  seen  going  on ; 
the  large  oaks,  poplars,  and  beeches  were  obedient  to 
the  first  touch;  there  was  no  rocking  of  the  trees  from 
side  to  side;  but  in  the  direction  in  which  they  first  be- 
gan to  lean,  that  way  they  fell  without  any  kind  of 
hesitation. 

The  tornado  crossed  the  Cumberland  Eiver  about 
twelve  miles  below  Clarksville,  traveled  up  the  river  in 
an  easterly  direction,  and  crossed  again  about  four 
miles  above  Clarksville,  laying  waste  every  thing  in  its 
course.  The  trees  were  uprooted,  except  some  which 
dipped  their  roots  so  deep  into  the  earth  as  to  resist  the 
storm;  but  the  trunks  of  even  these  had  to  yield,  and 
they  were  twisted  in  two,  without  any  kind  of  cere- 
mony, as  though  He  who  rides  upon  the  storm  designed 
them  as  riding-switches  to  drive  the  steeds  that  bear 
onward  the  thundering  car  of  destruction.  Houses, 
framed,  log,  and  brick,  were  alike  demolished,  when 
in  the  pathway  of  this  destructive  engine.  Fathers, 
mothers,  and  children  were  roused  from  the  slumbers 
of  night  by  the  approach  of  the  storm,  as  by  the  tread 
of  an  earthquake,  and  before  any  attempt  could  be 
made  to  fly  to  a  place  of  safety,  they  found  themselves 
buried  in  the  ruins  of  their  buildings. 

After  crossing  the  river  the  second  time,  I  have 
heard,  the  tornado  traveled  for  some  distance  along  the 
road  leading  from  Clarksville  to  Port  Royal,  carrying 
ruin  and  destruction  in  its  course.  Brick  buildings 


A   TORNADO.     '  371 

were  razed  to  their  very  foundations,  and  log  houses 
drifted  about  as  though  they  were  heaps  of  corn-stalks, 
while  framed  buildings  were  scattered  to  the  winds  in 
almost  every  direction.  The  amount  of  damage  done 
by  this  tempest  I  know  not;  for  I  have  not  been  in- 
formed from  whence  it  came  or  whither  it  has  gone. 
The  citizens  of  Clarksville  were  employed  all  day  on 
Sabbath  last,  following  the  track  of  the  storm,  and  re- 
lieving those  injured  by  it,  in  every  way  they  could — 
gathering  up  the  scattered  furniture,  bearing  off  the 
wounded  to  neighboring  houses,  where  they  could  re- 
ceive the  attention  which  their  condition  required,  and 
in  making  provision  for  the  burial  of  the  dead.  I  have 
been  informed  that  some  remained  buried  in  the  ruins 
of  their  buildings  from  ten  o'clock  P.M.  till  eight  or  nine 
the  next  morning,  and  others  found  themselves  lying 
upon  the  ground,  at  some  distance  from  their  houses, 
without  knowing  how  they  were  borne  there. 

I  think  it  due  to  the  inhabitants  of  Clarksville  to  say 
here  that  they  deserve  great  credit  for  their  prompt 
and  untiring  attention  to  the  distressed  and  wounded. 

Since  my  boyhood  I  have  desired  to  see  a  storm  of 
this  kind;  but  he  who  sees  it  once  will  desire  to  see  it 
no  more,  or  even  to  hear  the  sound  thereof.  At  ono 
time  the  darkness  was  as  black  as  ink,  and  then  sheets 
of  flame  were  thrown  around  the  clouds  and  over  the 
earth,  which  seemed  to  scathe  the  eye  that  looked  upon 
them.  The  falling,  dashing  rain,  the  descending  hail- 
stones, the  terrible  flappings  of  the  wings  of  the  wind, 
the  constant  rumble  of  the  thunder,  like  the  rolling  of 
wheels  of  the  car  upon  which  the  tempest  triumphantly 
rode,  and  the  convulsive  trembling  of  the  affrighted 
earth,  made  a  spectacle  most  awful  to  contemplate  and 
uncqualcd  in  its  sublime  grandeur.  Great  God!  what 


372        THE  TWINS  AND  THEIR  ANGELS. 

is  the  power  of  man  when  thy  wrath  is  kindled  but  a 
little? 

The  storm  is  past;  but  its  footprints  shall  be  seen  by 
a  generation  yet  unborn.  Almighty  God,  prepare  us 
for  that  storm  which  shall  make  creation  a  wreck,  and 
drift  us  before  thy  bar  for  trial !  1835< 


THE  TWINS  AND  THEIR  ANGELS. 

[This  paper  accompanied  an  engraving  in  the  Home  Circle,  rep- 
resenting two  angels  watching  over  twin-children  asleep.] 

THE  subject  of  this  engraving  is  so  full  of  the  deli- 
cate, the  beautiful,  and  the  mild,  that  to  enable  one  to 
write  about  it  appropriately  many  things  are  neces- 
sary; it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  require  a  peculiar 
season  of  the  year.  When  the  year  is  growing  old, 
and  the  trees  have  thrown  off  their  summer  robes,  and 
every  leaf,  and  bud,  and  flower  is  withered  and  dry, 
would  not  be  an  auspicious  time  to  write  of  youth, 
beauty,  and  innocence. 

Then,  there  is  something  in  the  place.  To  be  sur- 
rounded by  the  busy  world,  where  multitudes  are 
struggling  together  for  gain — where  nothing  wins  but 
cunning,  daring,  and  strength;  where  falsehood  and 
crime  of  every  kind  offend  the  eye  and  ear,  and  you  are 
allowed  to  think  only  of  taking  care  of  yourself — who 
could  write  of  angels  and  children  in  such  a  place? 

But  give  me  the  mildest  eve  that  summer  ever  gave, 
with  not  a  breathless  calm,  but  a  gentle,  soft-moaning 
air.  Let  not  the  spot  be  wild  and  lonely,  nor  yet  too 
much  disturbed  and  spoiled  by  art;  still,  there  must  be 
a  human  habitation;  children  must  have  a  home.  I 
want  fields,  also — not  wide  and  sunburnt,  though  wide 


THE  TWINS  AND  THEIR  ANGELS.        373 

enough  to  insure  competence,  well  laid  off,  and  thickly 
set  with  growing  grass  and  yellow  grain,  and  stocked 
with  flocks  and  herds  sufficient  to  fill  the  bill  of  nature's 
draft.  I  must  have  groves,  also — not  tall,  and  dense, 
and  gloomy,  but  young  and  growing  trees,  full  of  life 
and  foliage,  with  flowers,  and  clustering  vines,  and 
sweet-scented  shrubs,  and  winding  walks,  neatly  made 
and  cleanly  swept,  yet  without  much  show  of  cost;  for 
I  do  not  wish  to  think  of  wealth  and  poverty.  I  want 
neither  a  palace  nor  a  hut.  Give  me  music,  also — not 
the  sound  of  brass  nor  the  deep  tones  of  an  organ,  but 
the  songs  of  birds  and  the  fall  of  a  neighboring  stream. 
I  ask  not  for  the  scream  of  the  eagle  in  search  of  prey, 
but  for  the  soft  notes  of  timid  birds;  not  the  roar  of 
Niagara,  but  the  murmur  of  some  small,  gentle  stream, 
that  comes  to  slake  my  thirst,  cool  the  air,  and  beautify 
the  land. 

And  now  let  me  forget  all  unkind  feelings,  all  ene- 
mies, all  wrong,  anger,  hate,  envy,  all  the  unholy  brood 
of  kindred  feelings — keep  them  far  from  me.  And  now 
to  my  delightful  task;  let  me  dwell  awhile  with  angels 
and  children. 

An  angel  is  a  -spiritual,  intelligent  substance,  sup- 
posed by  many  to  be  the  first  in  rank  and  dignity 
among  cfeated  beings.  The  word  angel  is  not  properly 
a  denomination  of  nature,  but  of  office,  denoting  a  mes- 
senger, a  person  employed  to  carry  orders.  St.  Paul 
calls  angels  ministering  spirits;  yet  the  word  is  now 
everywhere  regarded  as  the  denomination  of  a  partic- 
ular order  of  spiritual  beings,  of  great  understanding 
and  power. 

With  regard  to  the  existence  of  angels,  there  is  not  a 
doubt  among  those  who  believe  in  the  truth  of  divine 
revelation.  As  to  the  relation  they  sustain  to  each 


374  THE  TWINS   AND   THEIR   ANGELS. 

other,  we  are  not  particularly  advised.  Divines  have 
divided  them  into  nine  different  orders,  and  reduced 
these  orders  into  three  hierarchies;  to  the  first  belong 
Seraphim,  Cherubim,  and  Thrones;  to  the  second,  Do- 
minions, Virtues,  and  Powers;  to  the  third,  Principali- 
ties, Archangels,  and  Angels.  The  Jews  divided  them 
into  four  orders:  first,  Michael;  second,  Gabriel;  third, 
Uriel;  fourth,  Eaphael ;  and  contend  that  all  take  rank 
under  some  one  of  these  leaders.  Though  these  are 
matters  about  which  we  know  but  little,  still  we  are 
satisfied  that  there  is  something  by  which  they  are  dis- 
tinguished from  each  other.  The  very  thought  that 
they  are  all  perfectly  alike — all  of  the  same  rank  and 
order — is  any  thing  but  pleasant  to  the  mind,  which  is 
always  seeking  after  variety. 

We  learn  from  the  Scriptures  that  they  dwell  in  the 
immediate  presence  of  God ;  that  they  excel  in  strength  ; 
that  they  are  immortal;  and  that  they  are  the  agents 
by  which  God  accomplishes  his  special  purposes  of 
judgment  and  mercy.  Few  things  are  more  frequently 
mentioned  in  the  Scriptures  than  the  missions  of  an- 
gels, employed  by  the  Almighty  to  disclose  his  will,  to 
correct,  teach,  reprove,  and  comfort  fallen  man. 

There  are  various  opinions  with  regard  to  the  time 
when  angels  were  created.  Some  think  it  was  when 
our  heaven  and  earth  were  made;  but  for  this  opinion 
there  is  no  foundation  in  the  word  of  God,  as  I  under- 
stand it. 

Speaking  to  Job,  God  said,  "Where  wast  thou  when 
I  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  and  all  the  sons  of 
God  shouted  for  joy?"  This  shows  clearly  that  angels 
arc  an  oi-der  of  beings  who  were  in  existence  before 
our  world  was  made.  But  those  who  believe  that  an- 
gels preside  over  the  affairs  of  nations,  countries,  and 


THE  TWINS  AND  THEIR  ANGELS.        375 

individuals,  and  therefore  worship  or  pray  unto  them, 
are  nothing  more  nor  less  than  idolaters.  Angels  do 
God's  will,  not  their  own;  yet  it  is  no  doubt  their 
greatest  pleasure  to  do  so.  St.  Paul  says.  "Are  they 
not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  to 
them  that  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation?"  No  matter 
how  high  in  rank  or  order  they  may  be,  they  are  yet 
nothing  more  than  ministering  spirits,  sent  to  do  such 
service  as  God  may  require  of  them.  It  is  not  wonder- 
ful, therefore,  that  the  artist  should  conceive  of  them 
as  attendants  on  children.  Here  it  is  worthy  of  re- 
mark that,  while  it  would  be  wicked  to  pray  to  angels, 
or  seek  their  interference  directly  in  matters  pertain- 
ing to  our  salvation,  yet  there  is  much  more  propriety 
in  doing  so  than  there  can  be  in  praying  to  saints,  who 
are  nowhere  represented  as  ministering  spirits. 

But  in  looking  at  the  engraving,  we  are  ready  to  ask, 
Why  are  these  angels  here?  why  stand  they  and  look 
so  intently  upon  these  little  ones  while  taking  their 
noontide  nap?  Are  they  merely  visitors?  Who  are 
they?  and  from  whence  came  they?  We  have  already 
told  you,  reader,  that  they  are  a  peculiar  denomination 
of  God's  creatui-cs,  of  ancient  birth,  who  are  said  to 
excel  in  strength.  Their  home  is  in  heaven;  they  arc 
a  part  and  parcel  of  the  immediate  family  of  the  Great 
Eternal,  and  have  been  oftentimes  on  parade,  to  sec 
how  worlds  were  made,  before  our  planet  received  its 
birth.  Still,  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  the  angels  of 
God  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  put  on  their  crowns,  ad- 
just their  robes,  walk  about  the  throne  to  ask  the  news, 
and  talk  about  the  signs  of  the  times.  Such  would  be 
an  idle,  useless,  unprofitable  life,  which  could  not  bo 
either  pleasant  to  them  or  pleasing  to  God. 

A  lazy  angel,  that  would  spend  one-half  of  the  time 


376        THE  TWINS  AND  THEIR  ANGELS. 

in  bed,  and  a  large  portion  of  the  other  half  in  dressing 
itself  to  receive  a  call  from  some  other  angel,  and  then 
talk  the  remainder  of  the  time  about  the  latest  style  of 
robes,  as  some  of  our  earthly  (would-be)  angels  do, 
would  soon  be  turned  out  of  heaven,  on  the  charge  of 
being  a  celestial  loafer. 

Angels  do  not  labor.  Labor  is  peculiar  to  fallen 
creatures,  and  is  one  of  the  effects  of  sin.  But  angels 
are  employed,  which  is  no  doubt  their  pleasure.  How 
rational  beings  can  be  happy  without  feeling  that  they 
are  useful  in  some  way,  I  cannot  conceive.  There  are 
no  idlers  in  heaven — none  living  on  the  interest  of 
their  estates.  It  was  probably  the  intention  of  the 
Almighty  that  all  his  intelligent  creatures  should  be 
employed.  Adam,  in  the  garden  of  Eden,  before  the 
fall,  was  required  to  dress  and  keep  it;  and  we  doubt 
not  that  one  part  of  the  employment  of  angels  is  to 
watch  over  and  take  care  of  the  weak  and  feeble  in- 
habitants of  earth. 

As  to  the  amount  of  service  rendered  by  angels,  we 
know  nothing  more  than  what  is  revealed  to  us  in  the 
word  of  God ;  but  we  learn  from  the  accounts  given  us 
there  that  there  was,  for  at  least  four  thousand  years,  a 
constant  communication  kept  up  between  heaven  and 
earth,  through  and  by  angelic  visitations.  But  when 
the  great  plan  of  salvation  was  completed,  and  man 
was  no  longer  under  a  theocrac}7,  their  visible  appear- 
ance ceased;  and  while  we  admit  that  they  are  still 
ministering  spirits  for  those  who  shall.be  heirs  of  sal- 
vation, yet  we  do  not  think  nor  believe  that  in  these 
days  angel-visits  are  to  be  expected,  as  in  those  days 
when  the  plan  of  salvation  was  being  made  known  to 
man ;  yet,  as  we  approach  the  eternal  world,  in  life's 
last  hours,  that  impression  which  often  seems  to  take 


THE  TWINS  AND  THEIR  ANGELS.        877 

possession  of  the  mind  of  the  dying  Christian,  that  an- 
gels are  in  the  room  and  around  his  bed,  I  think  de- 
serves respect. 

With  regard  to  the  disposition  of  angels,  we  find 
from  various  accounts  that  they  take  a  deep  and  lively 
interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  world. 
They  always  manifested  a  strong  desire  to  look  into  the 
plan  of  redemption,  to  study  and  understand  it;  and 
they  did  learn  enough  about  it  to  cause  them  to  rejoice 
exceedingly  at  the  nativity  of  our  Saviour;  for  they 
shouted,  "Glory  to  .God  in  the  highest;  and  on  earth 
peace,  good-will  toward  men!"  They  have  ever  been 
found  prompt  and  ready,  under  the  sanction  of  Al- 
mighty God,  to  bestow  benefits  on  man. 

As  to  their  number,  this  is  nowhere  laid  down  in  the 
word  of  God;  but  it  is  everywhere  admitted  to  be  very 
great.  The  prophet  says:  "I  beheld  till  the  thrones 
were  cast  down,  and  the  Ancient  of  days  did  sit.  A 
fiery  stream  issued  and  came  forth  from  before  him; 
thousand  thousands  ministered  unto  him,  and  ten  thou- 
sand times  ten  thousand  stood  before  him."  Two  mill- 
ions ministered  directly  unto  him,  and  one  hundred 
millions  stood  before  him;  so  that  one  hundred  and 
two  millions  of  these  ministering  spirits  were  under 
the  eye  of  the  prophet  at  one  time;  and  we  are  also 
informed  that  seventy  thousand  were  in  attendance  as 
a  mere  body-guard  to  our  Saviour  at  the  crucifixion. 

The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that  there  is  a  marked 
difference  between  the  angels  of  heaven  and  the  "An- 
gel of  the  Lord,"  which  we  hear  of  so  frequently  in  the 
Old  Testament.  The  Angel  of  the  Lord  is  the  title  given 
to  Christ  before  his  advent  into  the  world.  This  Angel 
appeared  to  Moses  at  Mount  Sinai,  and  led  the  children 
of  Israel  through  the  wilderness.  He  also  appeared  to 


378  THE   TWINS   AND   THEIR   ANGELS. 

Abraham,  Lot,  Manoah,  and  others.  But  the  "angels 
of  heaven"  came  to  conduct  the  Prophet  Elijah  and 
Lazarus  to  heaven,  and  were  in  crowds  at  the  nativity 
and  ascension  of  our  Saviour,  as  well  as  at  other  times; 
and  they  are  to  be  the  reapers  in  the  harvest-field  of 
this  world's  ruin;  for  when  God  shall  come  to  judge 
the  world,  the  angels  will  be  with  him.  Those  who,  in 
these  days,  attempt  to  have  interviews  with  spirits, 
should  try  to  invoke  angels;  they  have  long  been  in 
the  habit  of  visiting  our  earth,  and  conferring  with 
mortals,  though  always,  we  think,  at  the  instance  and 
by  the  authority  of  God  himself;  and  if  an  angel  were 
to  come  to  me,  without  the  authority  of  that  God  whom 
angels  are  bound  to  obey,  I  should  not  feel  under  any 
obligation  to  believe  such  a  messenger;  so  that  I  have 
no  hope  of  getting  an  angel  to  come  and  instruct  me  in 
heavenly  or  earthly  things,  unless  I  could  prevail  on 
God  to  send  him. 

But  the  spirits  of  departed  men  and  women  do  not 
belong  to  this  ministering  class  or  denomination  of 
beings  at  all.  The  souls  of  bad  men  God  knows  how^ 
to  reserve  to  the  day  of  judgment,  to  be  punished,  while 
the  souls  of  good  men  are  with  Christ,  day  and  night, 
in  the  temple  of  God.  They  are  "ever  with  the  Lord;" 
they  go  in  to  "go  out  no  more."  The  poet  sang  correctly 
when  he  said,  in  reference  to  the  saints, 

Millions  of  forms  all  clothed  in  light, 
In  garments  of  beauty  clean  and  white — 
They  dwell  in  their  own  immortal  bowers, 
Mid  countless  hues  of  fadeless  flowers, 
That  bloom  in  that  sun-bright  clime. 

I  think,  dear  reader,  if  you  are  not  satisfied  with  the 
account  that  God  has  furnished  }^ou  in  his  word  of  the 
future  state,  and  you  cannot  get  an  angel  to  come  to 


THE   TWINS   AND   THEIE   ANGELS.  379 

your  aid,  your  case  is  a  desperate  one;  you  will  never 
he  able  to  invoke  the  spirits  of  your  departed  friends. 
Your  next  interview  with  them  will,  no  doubt,  be  in 
the  land  of  spirits.  Man  was  at  first  placed  here  to  be 
a  denizen  of  this  world,  not  to  wander  back  and  forth 
from  earth  to  heaven  at  will.  By  reason  of  sin  our 
earth  has  become  cursed,  and  God  in  his  mercy  is  going 
to  remove  the  good  of  earth  to  heaven,  as  an  abiding 
home.  '  After  that  man  fell,  angels  became  media  of  in- 
tercourse between  heaven  and  earth.  Their  ministry 
continued  for  thousands  of  years,  in  connection  with 
the  patriarchs  and  prophets.  Then  Christ  became  the 
medium;  and  when  he  was  about  to  take  his  seat  in 
the  heavens,  he  promised  to  keep  up  the  connection, 
not  by  angels,  prophets,  or  the  spirits  of  good  men, 
but  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  Holy  Ghost  is  the  medium 
now;  yet  I  doubt  not  that  the  angels  still  visit  our 
world,  and  take  an  interest  in  the  affairs  of  mortals, 
but  not  for  the  purpose  of  revealing  the  secrets  of  the 
future. 

That  the  artist  should  have  selected  the  hour  of 
sleep  as  a  suitable  time  for  the  angels  to  make  a  near 
approach  to  the  objects  of  their  charge  is,  we  think, 
perfectly  correct.  It  is  at  least  possible  that  the 
greatest  difficulty  that  angels  may  have,  in  their  inter- 
course with  mortals,  grows  out  of  the  present  organi- 
zation of  humanity.  Man  being  in  part  terrestrial, 
and  the  soul  having  to  act  through  bodily  organs,  or 
sense,  is  doubtless  embarrassing  enough  to  those  who 
enjoy  perfect  freedom  of  action,  such  as  belongs  to  a 
pure  spiritual  existence.  When  we  are  in  a  waking 
state  we  are  prepared  to  associate  with  mortals  only; 
but  when  the  body  is  asleep,  and  the  action  of  the  soul 
no  longer  depends  upon  the  bodily  organs,  but  nets 


380  THE   TWINS   AND   THEIR   ANGELS. 

freely  and  independently  of  them,  such  is  a  befitting 
season  for  angelic  intercourse. 

We  find  in  the  case  of  Jacob,  when  in  the  wilderness 
of  Beersheba,  being  overtaken  by  the  approach  of 
night,  he  laid  himself  down  upon  the  earth,  resting  his 
head  upon  a  cold  stone,  and  no  doubt  considered  him- 
self cut  off  from  intercourse  with  all  created  beings; 
and  there,  amid  the  stillness  of  night,  and  surrounded 
by  an  unbroken  wilderness,  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep, 
and  during  the  hours  of  slumber  the  angels  of  heaven, 
in  great  numbers,  called  upon  him.  What  the  charac- 
ter of  the  conference  between  the  angels  and  the  spirit 
of  Jacob  was  we  know  only  in  part;  for,  no  doubt,  the 
greater  part  of  the  scenes  that  happen  at  such  a  time 
are  veiled  from  memory  by  the  simple  act  of  waking; 
and  the  private  interviews  are,  we  suppose,  generally 
kept  a  profound  secret.  Jacob,  though,  in  this  case, 
was  permitted  to  recollect  that  while  he  slept  the  an- 
gels of  heaven  constructed  a  celestial  stair-way  from  his 
humble  pillow  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  he  was  blessed 
with  gifted  sight  long  enough  to  see  the  angels  de- 
scending and  ascending,  in  crowds,  from  heaven  to 
earth,  and  back  to  heaven  again;  and  it  may  be  that 
while  he  slumbered  thousands  upon  thousands  came 
down  and  looked  steadfastly  upon  the  face  of  this  noble 
man,  and  held  communion  with  his  spirit. 

What  a  grand  and  glorious  privilege  it  was  to  be  able 
to  see  this  far-reaching  ladder  connecting  heaven  and 
earth,  with  those  heavenly  ones  in  shining  rank,  with 
rapid  but  easy  haste,  coming  and  returning  and  pass- 
ing each  other  in  living  streams!  No  wonder  Jacob 
said,  "God  is  in  this  place." 

You  have  seen  a  slumbering  babe,  before  it  was  able 
to  recognize  its  earthly  parents,  or  receive  thoughts  or 


THE   TWINS   AND   THEIR   ANGELS.  381 

impressions  from  mortal  beings  in  any  way,  with  a  rap- 
turous smile  upon  its  face — sure  evidence  that  its  soul 
was  transported  with  joy — and  did  you  not  think  that 
an  angel  had  whispered  some  pretty  thing  in  its  car? 
It  cannot  be  an  earthly  sight  or  sound  that  produces 
such  pleasant  emotion.  What  can  be  more  delicate, 
sweet,  or  glorious  than  to  talk  with  a  young  immortal, 
and  tell  it  of  heavenly  things,  and  show  it  beautiful 
sights?  Were  I  an  angel,  I  think  I  should  be  delighted 
to  be  the  first  to  unfold  the  secrets  of  the  heavenly 
world  to  one  who  had  just  entered  on  the  borders  of 
God's  creation.  How  familiar  with  sacred  things  that 
child  must  have  been,  of  whom  we  heard  of  late,  who, 
when  lifted  up  to  see  the  corpse  of  a  little  playmate, 
and  after  looking  for  a  moment  on  the  pale  features  of 
its  little  friend,  kissed  it  fondly,  and  then  softly  whis- 
pered in  its  ear,  "Give  my  love  to  God!"  Who  does 
not  love  a  child? 

With  respect  to  the  engraving  as  a  work  of  art  we 
have  nothing  to  say,  not  being  able  to  judge  of  true 
merit  in  that  department;  but,  with  respect  to  the  de- 
sign, we  think  there  is  a  display  of  the  purest  taste. 
Nothing  could  be  more  chaste  and  lovely.  No  one,  it 
seems  to  me,  can  look  upon  it  and  not  have  the  kind- 
lier feelings  of  his  nature  to  move  within  him. 

I  suppose  the  two  sleeping  children  are  twin-sisters, 
and  that  they  have  been  placed  in  their  crib  to  take  a 
midday  nap.  From  their  wardrobe  I  should  judge  that 
they  belong  to  a  medium  condition  in  life.  They  have, 
evidently,  a  living  mother,  who  has  for  them  a  mother's 
care.  Their  skin  is  clean,  their  hair  without  tangle, 
and  their  garments  neat  and  comfortable.  They  do  not 
appear  remarkably  handsome,  but  healthy  and  fine- 
looking. 


382  THE  TWINS   AND   THEIR  ANGELS. 

The  angel  on  the  right,  I  should  judge,  has  charge 
of  the  child  nearest  to  you,  and  the  angel  on  the  left  is 
the  guardian  of  the  other;  and  now,  while  mother  and 
nurse  arc  away,  and  the  children  are  sleeping  sweetly, 
they  have  made  a  near  approach  to  the  objects  of  their 
care,  and  are  enjoying  very  much  their  intercourse  with 
them.  And  now,  reader,  if  you  wish  to  know  which 
character  in  the  picture  I  prefer,  I  frankly  confess  I 
like  the  children  best.  Angels  are  mighty;  they  excel 
in  strength;  the  children  are  feeble  and  helpless;  an- 
gels are  pure — that  is,  those  you  look  upon  are;  the 
children  arc  fallen  and  impure;  the  angels  are  from 
heaven;  the  children  are  of  this  earth;  yet,  notwith- 
standing all  this,  I  like  the  children  best. 

The  marks  of  nobility  and  of  the  ultimate  distinc- 
tion of  humanity  are  much  greater,  we  think,  than  the 
glory  of  angels.  Angels,  I  grant,  excel  in  strength ; 
but  when  we  compare  the  various  points  and  traits  of 
character  in  angels  and  men.  and  mark  the  difference 
between  them,  we  think  man  must  ultimately  rise  far 
above  an  angel's  caste. 

Thei'c  is  among  angels  no  such  thing  as  parent  and 
child,  father  and  mother,  sister  and  brother;  each  one 
is  a  character,  individual  and  distinct.  Man  is  repre- 
sentative and  progressive.  An  angel  is  a  simple  nature; 
man  has  a  complex  nature;  he  is  an  immortal  terres- 
trial— a  compound  of  heaven  and  earth.  Angels  were 
created  good,  and  so  was  every  thing  that  God  made; 
but  man  alone  was  created  in  the  image  and  likeness 
of  God  himself. 

Christ  took  on  him  man's  na'ture,  but  did  not  take  on 
him  the  nature  of  angels.  Man  is  the  child  of  God  and 
brother  of  Christ,  and  a  joint-heir  with  Christ  to  the 
vast  possession  of  the  Great  Eternal  I  AM.  Angels  are 


LOLLA'S  LAUGH.  383 

God's  servants  and  ministering  spirits  to  man.  Men 
and  angels  both  fell.  Man  was  redeemed  at  heavy  cost, 
a  great  price;  angels  were  not  redeemed  at  all;  and  we 
are  assured  that  our  final  exaltation,  through  Christ,  is 
to  that  of  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and  the  Lamb 
forever  and  ever.  Some  who  were  once  here  on  earth, 
weeping,  helpless  children  in  the  arms  of  their  parents, 
and  who  tasted  of  sorrow's  cup,  and  encountered  the 
rough  storms  of  earth  and  the  temptations  of  the  evil 
one,  are  distinguished  in  heaven.  Abraham's  bosom 
and  paradise  are  now  convertible  terms,  while  one  of 
the  songs  which  are  sung  in  heaven  is  "  the  song  of  Mo- 
ses the  servant  of  God,  and  the  song  of  the  Lamb ; "  and 
those  who  go  from  earth  to  heaven  through  Christ  are 
ultimately  to  sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
at  God's  right-hand.  O  that  man  would  but  claim 
through  Christ  his  birthright  and  noble  destiny!  How 
transcendcntly  glorious  is  our  futui-e  position  and  in- 
heritance, if  we  but  pursue  in  this  life  the  course  which 
God  approves!  May  all  who  shall  look  upon  this  en- 
graving and  read  this  sketch  feel  that  they  have  been 
made  better  by  so  doing.  isss. 


LOLLA'S  LAUGH. 

I  AM  happy  to  say  that,  sin-cursed  and  bad  as  this 
world  is,  once  in  awhile  we  meet  with  scenes  which 
greatly  relieve  the  dark  picture,  reminding  us  that  this 
earth  was  once  a  paradise — the  residence  of  one  made 
in  the  image  of  God. 

Not  long  since  I  saw  a  countenance  and  heard  a 
laugh  which  one  might  make  a  pilgrimage  to  enjoy; 
and  since  I  have  been  blessed  with  the  sight  of  that 


384  LOLLA'S  LAUGH. 

face  and  heard  the  music  of  that  laugh  I  have  sought 
in  vain  among  the  recollections  of  the  past  for  some- 
thing equally  sweet  and  heavenly. 

I  have  lain  down  full-length  at  midnight  in  desert 
wilds,  listened  to  the  winds  whispering  through  the 
pines,  heard  the  low  murmur  of  the  waterfall,  and  the 
chant  of  the  bird  over  his  sleeping  brood ;  I  have  gazed 
upon  the  stars  that  had  come  out  to  watch  in  the  silent 
sky,  some  hurrying  along  as  bearers  of  dispatches 
which  their  neighbors  did  not  understand,  others  tak- 
ing it  more  leisurely,  while  here  and  there  were  those 
who  seemed  cast  .off  from  the  community  of  worlds — 
solitary,  sweeping  across  the  lofty  dome,  crowded  to- 
gether in  glittering  ranks,  as  though  they  had  assem- 
bled in  obedience  to  an  order  for  a  grand  review  of 
worlds;  and  as  I  gazed,  the  meteor  was  shaken  loose, 
set  on  fire,  and  went  madly  rushing  through  the  heav- 
ens, leaving  in  its  track  a  train  of  flame.  1  have  stood 
upon  the  mountain  peak,  with  the  nations  beneath  me, 
and  looked  above  the  thoughts  of  mere  men  of  the 
world,  while  wrecked  and  rainless  clouds  floated  by, 
like  drift-wood  on  the  stream,  and  others  sallied  forth 
from  their  mountain  harbors,  like  men-of-war  menac- 
ing, while  reinforcements  hurried  into  rank  from  every 
direction,  till  at  length  the  flash  of  arms  and  the  sound 
of  heavy  ordnance — the  roll  of  the  "thunder-drum  of 
heaven" — broke  on  eye  and  ear,  and  the  unbridled 
winds  kept  up  the  martial  music.  I  looked  again,  and 
all  was  calm ;  the  clouds  had  drifted  away,  the  sun  was 
shining  in  his  strength,  and  in  the  distant  vale  below 
the  locomotive  with  its  train  dashed  headlong  through 
hill  and  dale,  and  over  running  streams;  and  I  have 
followed  them  with  my  eye  till  in  the  distance  they 
seemed  as  a  chain  of  insects  borne  on  by  a  fire-fly. 


LOLLA'S  LAUGH.  385 

Far  as  the  eye  could  reach  there  lay  before  me  the  va- 
ried scenes  of  mountains  and  valleys,  streams,  towns, 
villages,  farms,  and  solitary  habitations,  like  a  map 
spread  out  at  my  feet — as  though  Nature  had  thrown 
back  her  veil  that  she  might  display  at  once  all  her 
beauty.  Here  I  have  lingered  until  the  day  grew  old, 
and  the  burning  sun  that  flamed  along  the  sky  grew 
weary,  and  sank  to  rest  among  the  clouds  that  cano- 
pied the  "West;  and  still  I  gazed  in  rapture  upon  the 
varying  glory  of  the  setting  sun,  the  shifting  forms 
and  fantastic  shapes  of  the  evening  clouds,  all  gor- 
geously painted  by  his  lingering  rajTs — at  one  moment 
it  seemed  a  vast  fleet,  vessel  after  vessel  in  full  sail;  at 
another  a  mighty  giant  with  the  club  of  Hercules  in 
his  hand;  at  one  time  I  saw  two  children  away  in  the 
distance,  one  leading  the  other  by  the  hand,  and  at 
once  recognized  them  as  the  "babes  in  the  wood;"  tli<>, 
next  moment  a  ponderous  elephant  appeared  with  his 
unwieldy  trunk,  and  an  African  chieftain,  spear  in 
hand,  mounted  on  his  back;  then  rose  a  mighty  city, 
with  battlements  and  towers — part  had  fallen  into  ruin, 
the  rest  was  all  on  fire;  at  length,  far  in  the  distance, 
which  the  straining  eye  could  scarcely  reach,  was  a 
frail  aerial  bark,  with  an  angel's  hand  upon  the  helm. 
Such  scenes  have  held  me  spell-bound,  until  old  Night, 
the  emblem  of  death,  threw  her  dark  veil  around  me, 
and  the  winds  among  the  rocky  heights  and  ancient 
cliffs  sang  the  mountain's  lament  for  the  loss  of  day. 
But  in  all  this  I  saw  not  Lolla's  eyes,  I  heard  not  Lol- 
la's  laugh. 

An  object  often  partakes  of  the  circumstances   by 

which  it  is  surrounded;  yet  the  surroundings  of  Lolla 

are  unpretentious.     She  is  not  an  inhabitant  of  a  proud 

city  with    pebbled    streets   and    granite   pavements; 

17 


LOLLA'S  LAUGH. 

neither  is  her  dwelling  a  costly  marble  pile;  she  lives 
in  a  country  village,  not  even  within  hearing  of  the 
roar  of  the  rail-car  or  the  shout  of  the  steam-whistle; 
her  home  is  a  neat,  retired  cottage.  The  time  and  cir- 
cumstance in  which  she  made  her  appearance  were  not 
such  as  you  might  suppose.  It  was  not  a  May-day  oc- 
casion, neither  was  she  introduced  as  the  queen  of 
flowers.  The  time  was  a  Sabbath  afternoon,  the  place 
a  sick-room.  The  afflicted  one  was  a  venerable  man 
who  had  passed  his  threescore  years,  thirty  of  which 
he  had  spent  in  the  village  and  neighborhood  as  a 
physician,  and,  being  a  man  of  sound  head,  pure  heart, 
and  large  benevolence,  had  won  the  aifections  of  the 
whole  community;  and  now  that  he  was  passing  away, 
all  were  vying  with  each  other  in  kind  attentions  and 
tokens  of  regard.  Such  was  Dr.  Edwards. 

He  occupied  a  room  in  the  house  of  his  son-in-law, 
the  Eev.  Mr.  C.,  the  honored  father  of  Lolla.  The 
writer,  together  with  a  number  of  the  Doctor's  old 
friends,  had  met  there  by  his  request,  as  he  wished 
once  more  to  partake  of  the  broken  body  and  shed 
blood  of  the  blessed  Saviour  before  he  should  go  home. 
The  Eev.  Mr.  G.,  a  weeping  prophet;  Mr.  M.,  his  pas- 
tor; Mr.  N".,  his  class-leader;  and  Aunt  Casy,  the 
guardian -angel  of  the  village,  with  several  others, 
were  present.  The  service  was  conducted  according 
to  the  impressive  form  laid  down  in  the  ';Book  of  Dis- 
cipline;"  an  infant  sister  of  Lolla  was  dedicated  to  God 
in  holy  baptism,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  G.  offered  up  the 
closing  prayer.  The  Doctor's  wife,  and  their  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  C.,  were  invited  to  partake  of  the  holy  eu- 
charist  with  him.  When  the  last  prayer  was  closed, 
Mr.  N.,  the  class-leader,  commenced  singing  the  famil- 
iar hymn. 


LOLLA'S  LAUGH.  387 

On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand, 
with  the  chorus, 

Heaven,  sweet  heaven,  home  of  the  blest, 
How  I  long  to  be  there,  in  its  glories  to  share, 
And  to  lean  on  my  Saviour's  breast! 

During  the  singing  of  this  hymn  those  present,  al- 
ready greatly  excited,  seemed  to  be  almost  overwhelmed 
with  floods  of  glory. 

Here  I  introduce  Lolla,  a  child  of  seven  years,  per- 
fect in  form,  exquisitely  beautiful,  with  fair  skin,  blue 
eyes,  light  hair  gently  thrown  back,  graceful  in  man- 
ner, and  in  step  almost  as  light  and  timid  as  a  bird. 
She  was  neatly  dressed  and  scrupulously  clean.  Her 
mind  was  naturally  good,  and  well  improved  for  one 
of  her  years.  She  had  also  enjoyed  the  advantages  of 
Sunday-school  instruction,  and  knew  the  ministers  so 
well  and  loved  them  so  much  that  she  called  each  of 
them  Uncle. 

While  the  hymn  referred  to  was  being  sung,  Lolla's 
mother  threw  herself  upon  the  bosom  of  her  father 
and  talked  of  the  meeting  of  friends  in  heaven.  Tears 
fell  like  rain  from  every  eye,  and  several  shouted  for 
joy.  This  was  the  time  when,  and  the  place  where, 
Lolla  appeared.  Shouting  for  joy,  she  had  moved  up 
to  where  I  sat  near  her  grandpa's  bed,  and,  leaning 
against  me,  arrested  my  attention  by  gently  shaking 
my  elbow;  and  when  I  looked  around,  there  she  stood, 
not  trembling  with  fear,  but  perfectly  self-possessed. 
She  was  weeping,  yet  not  with  feelings  of  mingled 
awe  and  dread,  but  as  the  angels  do — if  angels  weep  at 
all;  and  now,  when  an  extraordinary  burst  of  holy  joy 
came  up,  she  shook  my  arm  again,  and  looking  up  into 
my  face,  her  whole  countenance  beaming  with  delight, 
her  eyes  sparkling  with  supernatural  joy,  she  laughed 


388  LOLLA'S  LAUGH. 

the  most  musical,  heavenly  laugh  that  ever  fell  upon 
my  ear.  It  was  perfectly  electrical,  and  thrilled  along 
my  nerves  as  though  by  accident  a  hand  had  struck  an 
ajigcl's  harp.  She  seemed  anxious  that  my  attention 
should  be  continually  directed  to  where  the  greatest 
signs  of  joy  were  apparent;  and  every  time  I  caught 
her  eye  she  favored  me  with  that  transcendently  glo- 
rious laugh.  O  had  I  then  only  been  blessed  with  gifted 
sight,  I  should  probably  have  seen  her  angel  shower- 
ing light  and  kisses  upon  her  cheek! 

The  service  closed,  and  the  friends  slowly  retired. 
After  all  were  gone  save  the  family,  with  little  Lolla 
sitting  on  my  knee,  I  asked  her: 

"Lolla,  how  did  you  feel  during  the  service  awhile 
ago?" 

"Uncle,"  she  answered,  "I  was  very,  very  happy." 

"Were  you  ever  happy  in  that  way  before,  Lolla?" 

"0  yes,"  she  replied,  "many  a  time." 

"  How  long,"  said  I,  "  since  you  were  first  happy?  and 
how  did  you  happen  to  get  so  the  first  time?" 

"It  was  more  than  a  year  ago.  1  went  with  papa  to 
class-meeting  one  day,  and  Uncle  G.  told  them  all  how 
they  might  get  happy.  I  thought  I  would  try  it,  and 
did  so,  and  got  happy  directly." 

"And  what  did  Uncle  G.  tell  you  to  do?"  said  I. 

"He  told  all  who  wanted  to  get  happy  just  to  go  by 
themselves,  and  get  on  their  knees,  and  pray  to  God  to 
make  them  happy,  and  God  would  do  it;  and  when  I 
came  home  I  just  went  by  myself  and  got  on  my 
knees  and  prayed  to  God  to  make  me  happy,  and  I 
got  so  happy  directly  that  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do; 
and  I  have  prayed  to  God  and  got  happy  the  same  way 
a  great  many  times  since." 

I  then  asked  her  if  she  had  been  praying  to  God  to 


LOLLA'S  LAUGH.  389 

make  her  happy  that  day.  She  said  she  prayed  every 
day,  but  did  not  expect  to  get  happy  that  day;  that 
the  Lord  had  made  her  so  that  time  without  her  look- 
ing for  it. 

A  few  moments  before  the  close  of  this  conversation 
her  father  came  into  the  room,  and,  after  Lolla  had  re- 
tired, gave  me  much  the  same  account  of  her  conver- 
sion, remarking  that  it  was  characterized  by  every 
sign  of  genuine  regeneration,  and  that  he  had  no 
doubt  that  she  was  truly  pious;  that  she  attended  to 
all  her  Christian  duties  with  great  regularity  and  spirit. 

O  that  all  parents  would  take  the  same  care  to  im- 
press the  minds  of  their  children  with  heavenly  things! 
Then  there  would  be  more  Lollas  in  the  world. 

It  was  truly  interesting  to  converse  with  this  child. 
She  regarded  our  blessed  Saviour  as  the  best  friend  of 
the  family,  and  talked  of  going  to  heaven  as  the  dear- 
est wish  of  her  life.  I  think  I  never  before  saw  so 
pure  a  human  being  as  Lolla.  The  seeds  of  sin  were 
never  permitted  to  grow,  but  were  crushed  out  by 
grace  before  they  sprouted.  At  present  she  seems  al- 
most unearthly;  and  I  trust  I  shall  never  forget  the 
countenance  and  laugh  of  Lolla.  isco. 


NOTES    OF1   TRAVEL. 


A  LIVE  TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD. 

NOW  for  a  trip.  The  weather  is  warm,  times  are 
dull ;  and  we  have  just  as  good  right  to  take  a 
jaunt  as  anybody.  Do  like  the  Yankee:  take  your 
carpet-bag — something  that  you  can  carry  yourself — 
and  then  when  the  hackmen  and  porters  are  gathering 
around  you,  waving  their  whips,  and  shouting  in  your 
ears,  like  so  many  crazy  persons,  you  can  just  lift  your 
baggage  and  strike  a  bee-line  for  your  hotel,  and  so  get 
clear  of  these  land-sharks. 

Just  look!  what  large  trunks  people  travel  with 
these  days!  In  nothing  have  times  changed  more 
these  last  fifty  years  than  in  the  baggage  of  a  traveler. 
The  baggage-privilege  of  our  fathers  was  a  pair  of 
saddle-bags;  and  there  goes  a  trunk  this  moment  that 
would  hold  fifty  pairs — loaded,  at  that. 

Just  take  a  look  at  your  vender  of  books.  He  has 
not  sold  many  to-day — his  basket  is  yet  full.  Let  us 
see  what  he  has  on  hand:  yellow-backs  mostly;  mere 
literary  shavings,  worse  than  nothing;  there  is  one 
readable  book — words  that  shook  the  world — a  short  ac- 
count of  the  Eeformation,  or  "Life  of  Martin  Luther." 
How  anxious  he  talks!  he  seems  to  recommend  all  the 
books  in  his  basket  with  the  same  measured  tone  and 
manner.  I  suppose  he  has  never  read  any  of  them. 
(390) 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  391 

And  here  are  the  orange,  apple,  and  candy  dealers, 
consisting  mainly  of  boys,  who  are  the  traveler's  rats, 
picking  up  all  the  loose  dimes;  for  there  are  many 
men  who  will  purchase  fruits,  cakes,  and  candy  when 
traveling  who  would  never  think  of  such  a  thing  at 
home. 

But  where  are  all  the  people  going  to?  is  the  ques- 
tion. I  suppose  each  individual  has  an  object  in  view: 
one  is  going  home,  another  leaving  home;  some  are  on 
business,  others  seeking  pleasure.  Here  is  one  who  is 
evidently  alone;  there  sits  a  group  of  five  or  six  who 
seem  to  have  a  common  interest — out  on  a  pleasure- 
trip;  they  must  sit  together,  with  the  seats  turned  to 
suit.  Bags,  baskets,  umbrellas,  all  find  their  way  to 
the  hooks  or  racks.  Now  they  are  seated,  but  not  sat- 
isfied: the  ladies  must  not  be  on  the  sunny  side;  now 
all  are  settled,  and  a  pell-mell  conflict  of  words  ensues. 

"All  aboard!"  shouts  the  conductor.  Do  you  not 
think  that  he  takes  great  pleasure  in  being  able  to 
command  a  multitude  in  the  way  he  does?  He  has  no 
desire  to  leave  any  one;  I  would  not  charge  him  with 
such  a  thing;  but  I  do  think  that  he  takes  pleasure  in 
seeing  them  almost  left. 

The  locomotive  gave  a  deep  moan,  and  then  his 
heavy  tread  was  felt  upon  the  iron  track,  and  we  were 
off.  Each  one  seems  to  turn,  for  a  moment,  to  his  own 
affairs.  Let  me  see — have  I  got  my  checks  all  right? 
and  have  I  not,  in  the  bustle,  lost  my  ticket?  Here 
comes  the  conductor;  what  a  dignified  and  business- 
looking  man  he  is!  "Show  your  tickets!"  is  the  order; 
no  if  you  please  about  it.  I  have  mine,  thank  Provi- 
dence! but  what's  the  matter  there?  That  man  has 
no  ticket,  and  the  conductor  says  he  must  pay  more 
than  those  who  have,  and  the  man  says  it's  all  wrong; 


392        A  LIVE  TKXNESSEEAN  ABROAD. 

that  he  had  not  time  to  get  one;  the  ticket-agent  did 
not  come  till  about  fifteen  minutes  before  starting,  and 
there  was  quite  a  crowd  about  the  little  window;  that 
just  at  this  time  the  baggage-man  commenced  check- 
ing, when  he  had  to  go  to  him,  and  as  soon  as  his  bag- 
gage was  checked  the  conductor  shouted  "All  aboard! " 
that  he  was  willing  to  pay  what  other  passengers  did, 
but  no  more.  Up  goes  the  conductor's  hand  for  the 
bell-rope,  to  stop  the  cars  and  put  him  out,  and  out 
comes  that  extra  twenty-five  cents.  See  how  angry  the 
fellow  seems;  but  it  is  of  no  use  to  resist  men  in  au- 
thority. 

Have  you  ever  been  impressed  with  the  fact  that 
when  a  railroad  is  made  through  a  section  of  country 
where  no  such  thing  had  ever  been  seen  before,  you 
will  at  once  find  men  suited  to  all  the  different  kinds 
of  employment — president,  agents,  conductors,  brake- 
men,  baggage-masters,  and  all?  and  after  a  few  weeks 
they  appear  to  adapt  themselves  to  their  situations  in 
such  a  manner  that  one  would  think  none  of  them 
would  be  able  to  do  any  thing  else  if  they  were  turned 
out  of  office.  You  can  find  men  everywhere  that  will 
do  for  every  thing. 

Lay  aside  that  book!  the  car  is  no  place  to  read  in. 
I  am  half  inclined  to  believe  that  the  greater  part  of 
those  who  read  so  much  in  the  cars  do  nx»t  read  much 
anywhere  else.  I  know  it  is  not  the  case  with  you; 
but  here  are  rocks  and  trees,  hills  and  vales,  and  run- 
ning streams,  which  you  never  saw  before,  nor  any 
like  them;  no  two  trees  in  the  woods  are  alike.  And 
then,  here  are  a  hundred  new  faces,  and  all  these  peo- 
ple have  more  or  less  brains,  and  some  of  them  have 
thoughts  which  are  their  own.  Open  your  eyes,  un- 
stop your  cars.  A  book  is  a  mere  copy,  and  sometimes 


A  LIVE  TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD.         393 

a  poor  copy  at  that;  but  here  is  the  original — read  the 
first  edition. 

After  all,  I  am  not  sure  but  we  are  generally  more 
pleased  with  the  copy  than  with  the  original;  a  mere 
imitation  is  often  preferred  to  the  reality.  Suppose, 
for  instance,  that  a  pig  were  to  get  fast  in  the  fence 
and  begin  to  squeal,  would  we  not  have  it  loosed  at 
once,  and  stop  the  dreadful  noise?  And  yet,  if  some 
vagabond  were  to  come  to  town  and  stick  up  bills  to 
the  effect  that  he  would  squeal  the  next  nighL  at  the 
hall  so  much  like  a  pig  that  you  could  not  tell  the  dif- 
ference, are  there  not  many  who  would  go  and  give 
their  money  to  hear  him,  and  consider  it  quite  an  en- 
tertainment? But  you  are  getting  a  little  sleepy. 
After  you  have  taken  a  nap,  we  shall  have  something 
more  to  say. 

There  are  two  or  three  things  connected  with  the 
eating  arrangements,  that  affect  me  uncomfortably, 
while  traveling  on  the  cars.  First,  I  cannot  keep  the 
fact  out  of  my  mind  that  I  shall  have  to  pay  the  man 
at  the  door  fifty  cents  whether  I  eat  much  or  little. 
The  other  is,  that  in  spite  of  myself  there  is  a  feeling 
of  haste,  so  that  I  eat  too  fast.  Is  it  not  too  bad  that 
all  the  lost  time  of  the  train  has  to  be  made  up  by 
shortening  the  time  for  eating?  Do  you  really  believe 
there  is  an  understanding  between  conductors  and  eat- 
ing-house keepers?  I  do  not  charge  them  with  such 
a  thing,  but  will  tell  you  what  I  saw  to-day.  Know- 
ing that  we  were  ten  minutes  behind  time,  I  was  on 
the  lookout,  and  it  happened  that  the  conductor  sat  di- 
rectly opposite  to  me  at  the  table,  and  while  I  was  try- 
ing to  get  some  one  to  attend  to  me,  I  saw  that  he  had 
already  been  waited  on.  He  had  bacon  and  beans,  and 
soon  after  a  slice  of  beef,  next  came  a  blackberry  pie 
17* 


394  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

and  a  glass  of  milk,  then  a  glass  of  water;  so  that  he 
did  not  lose  one  moment — did  nothing  but  chew  and 
swallow,  and  was  soon  done  and  gone;  did  not  stop  at 
the  door  to  make  any  change;  and  in  a  few  seconds 
more  the  old  locomotive  fetched  such  a  scream  that  we 
all  supposed  it  could  not  be  held  any  longer.  Here  we 
all  went  as  hard  as  we  could  tear,  lest  the  whole  busi- 
ness should  cut  out  and  leave  us.  Do  you  not  think 
that  there  ought  to  be  a  law  passed  to  the  effect  that 
all  travelers  on  public  convej^ances  should  be  allowed 
half  an  hour  for  each  meal?  The  dinner  was  good 
enough,  but  we  had  not  time  to  eat  it.  But  was  not 
that  an  awful  breakfast  we  had  this  morning?  After 
all,  I  am  a  little  sorry  that  I  said  what  I  did  to  the 
landlord.  If  he  had  plucked  up  and  quarreled  with 
me  all  would  have  been  right  enough ;  but  when  I  told 
him  that  it  was  the  meanest  breakfast  that  I  ever  saw 
-in  a  Christian  country,  he  just  looked  distressed,  and 
said  he  was  sorry  for  it.  I  told  him  that  we  were  all 
sorry,  that  it  was  a  sorry  business.  I  suspect  that  he 
was  taken  by  surprise,  that  he  did  not  look  for  so  many 
passengers.  If  you  noticed,  on  the  first  little  tables 
we  came  to  there  was  some  show  of  eatables,  and  you 
did  well  to  stop  among  those  ladies;  but  up  where  I 
went  it  looked  like  starvation.  I  looked  all  around 
and  saw  nothing  in  reach  but  one  solitary  salt  herring, 
and  it  lay  off  at  a  respectful  distance  from  me  on  its 
side,  with  its  back  toward  me.  and  looked  so  lonely 
and  defenseless  that  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  trouble  it.  I  waited  awhile  with  an  air  of  gentle- 
manly dignity,  but  found  that  would  not  do;  I  looked 
to  the  right  and  left — no  person  came  to  my  relief; 
I  struck  the  handle  of  my  knife  against  the  table, 
all  to  no  avail;  then  rattled  my  cup  in  the  saucer,  but 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  395 

•without  success.  About  this  time  the. large,  red-faced 
man  you  see  yonder  cried  out,  "Is  nobody  going  to 
bring  us  something  to  eat  up  this  way?"  I  felt  that  I 
had  the  advantage  of  him,  for  I  was  still  in  a  good 
humor,  while  he,  as  the  boys  say,  was  ashy.  At  length 
I  saw  a  large,  good-looking  man  with  rather  a  benig- 
nant face,  carrying  coffee  to  oue  and  another  of  the 
ladies,  and  took  him  to  be  the  landlord,  but  thought  it 
strange  that  such  a  clever-looking  man  should  keep  so 
poor  a  house.  I  commenced  winking  and  blinking, 
nodding  and  beckoning  at  him  every  chance  I  got.  At 
length  he  concluded  that  he  had  better  attend  to  me, 
so  he  brought  me  on  a  plate  in  one  hand  a  little  bit  of 
the  saltest  ham  I  ever  tasted,  and  a  piece  of  bread;  and 
in  the  other  hand  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  I  went  to  work. 
A  few  moments  after,  I  saw  my  friend  that  I  took  to  be 
the  landlord  come  to  a  vacant  seat  with  a  plate  in  one 
hand,  a  cup  of  coffee  in  the  other;  on  his  plate  was  a 
bit  of  chicken,  a  piece  of  bread,  a  little  butter,  and  an 
egg.  I  began  to  look  about  for  the  eggs,  but  they 
never  came  in  sight.  He  took  his  seat  and  began  to 
eat,  when  I  discovered  that  he  was  one  of  the  passen- 
gers; seeing  there  was  nothing  to  eat  in  reach  of  him. 
and  not  being  able  to  get  a  servant  to  look  up  something' 
for  him,  he  went  himself.  Yonder  he  sits  now.  The 
ham  was  so  hard  and  salt  I  could  do  nothing  with  it; 
the  bread  had  been  sliced  up  until  it  had  become  so 
dry  that  the  flies  could  not  reach  the  moisture  with 
their  bills,  for  I  saw  several  that  looked  very  thirsty 
trying— they  would  stand  up  almost  right  on  their 
heads,  but  it  would  not  do.  And  the  coffee  had  blue 
stripes  in  it!  I  can  stand  any  other  kind  better  than 
this.  In  general,  by  pouring  off  the  top,  and  stopping 
a  little  before  you  get  to  the  bottom,  I  would  escape  all 


396  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

the  bad  things,  from  the  fact,  as  the  old  woman  said 
about  her  bluing,  it  will  either  sink  or  swim;  but  these 
blue  stripes  run  all  through  in  such  a  way  that  there  is 
no  getting  around  them.  I  would  give  the  name  of 
this  hotel  if  I  did  not  think  that  the  landlord  will  do 
better  next  time.  I  have  a  thing  or  two  to  tell  you, 
but  here  we  are  at  B . 

WE  are  under  way  once  more,  and  the  little  troubles 
which  one  has  to  pass  through  ought  to  be  borne  with, 
though  an  honest  man  feels  a  little  annoyed  at  being 
all  the  while  treated  as  one  who  is  under  suspicion.  I 
had  to  show  that  baggage-master  my  tickets  before  he 
would  check  my  baggage,  lest  I  should  smuggle  a 
trunk  into  the  cars  without  its  corresponding  traveler. 
Well,  I  think  the  women  are  up  to  them,  for  some  of 
them  have  trunks  as  large  as  two  good -sized  trunks 
used  to  be;  and  I  think  it  would  be  better  if  they  al- 
lowed them  two  trunks  each,  if  they  would  agree  not 
to  have  such  large  ones. 

There  is  one  thing  which  always  strikes  me  on  going 
into  another  car  at  these  points  of  change,  and  that  is, 
to  find  so  many  persons  asleep.  That  is  the  time  for 
'all  hands  to  be  asleep.  Just  look  around  you  at  the 
number  of  sleeping  subjects.  They  will  all  wake  up 
just  as  soon  as  these  new-comers  all  get  seated. 
Wherever  you  find  two  in  a  seat  you  will  find  them 
wide  awake;  but  those  who  have  whole  seats  to  them- 
selves are  sure  to  be  asleep.  Look  at  that  man  over 
there — he  is  sound  asleep,  but  too  uncomfortable  to  hold 
out  long;  he  will  move  now  in  two  minutes,  and  that 
without  waking  —  that  is,  without  opening  his  eyes. 
There !  I  told  you  so !  that  fellow  is  wide  awake,  and 
has  been  all  the  time.  Well,  I  would  not  act  the  hyp- 


A   LIVE    TEXXESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

ocrite  in  that  style  to  get  a  feather  bed  to  lie  on,  tired 
as  I  am !  Do  you  not  see  how  they  are  waking  up  al- 
ready, all  over  the  car?  How  shamefully  selfish  we 
are!  But  these  ladies  take  up  a  whole  bench,  and  no 
mistake.  You  need  not  say  to  them,  as  the  boy  said  to 
the  hen  he  was  trying  to  set,  "Spread  yourself!"  for 
they  are  doing  it  in  style. 

I  wish  I  could  see  this  country;  but  railway  travel- 
ing is  the  poorest  of  all  modes  of  travel,  so  far  as  seeing 
the  country  is  concerned.  Nearly  half  our  time  we  are 
the  same  as  under  the  ground — at  least,  we  cannot  see 
out — and  when  that  is  not  the  case,  if  you  look  out  you 
are  liable  to  get  a  cinder  in  your  eyes,  which  will  put 
an  end  to  your  seeing  altogether  for  awhile.  I  wish 
the  water -screen  ventilation  were  introduced  every- 
where; but  in  that  case  you  can  only  breathe  with 
comfort  when  in  motion,  so  that  there  is  a  continual 
putting  up  and  pulling  down  of  windows;  and,  farther, 
I  should  like  for  some  person  to  make  a  catch  which  all 
will  approve.  In  almost  every  new  car  I  get  into  there 
is  some  new  fashion  of  fastening  up  and  letting  down 
the  windows. 

You  remember  the  trouble  I  had  with  that  lady, 
awhile  ago.  I  am  glad  that  she  is  able  to  sleep,  poor 
thing!  You  did  not  see  the  beginning  of  the  matter. 
Well,  it  was  just  this  way:  I  saw  her  try  two  or  three 
times  to  let  down  her  window;  why  she  wanted  it 
down  I  could  not  tell,  unless  it  was  because  it  was  up. 
Did  you  ever  see  a  lady  who  found  a  piece  of  furniture 
where  she  wanted  it?  A  chair  never  stands  in  the 
right  place.  Bless  them!  they  are  always  "housekeep- 
ing," no  matter  where  they  are.  The  ladies  of  my 
party  carried  this  matter  so  fur  the  other  night  that 
they  took  one  of  the  beds  out  of  the  room,  so  that  they 


398  A    LIVE   TEXXESSEEAX    ABROAD. 

might  set  their  trunks  around  the  room  to  their  notion. 
But  I  am  off  the  subject.  As  I  was  saying,  she  tried 
and  tried,  two  or  three  times,  to  get  her  sash  down,  but 
could  not,  and  when,  at  each  failure,  she  looked  about 
to  see  if  some  one  would  not  come  to  her  relief,  I  at  last 
became  a  little  nervous,  and  determined  to  help  her; 
and  there  is  where  I  made  a  mistake.  I  did  not  know 
any  more  about  putting  down  the  window  than  she  did. 
Now,  let  me  give  you  a  piece  of  advice:  never  attempt 
to  aid  a  lady  in  doing  any  thing,  unless  you  understand 
it;  for  there  are  two  sins  a  woman  never  forgives, 
to  wit,  ignorance  and  a  want  of  courage.  MJT  error 
was  in  trying  to  assist  the  lady  without  knowing  how. 
We  both  got  to  work  together  at  the  old  window.  She 
was  trying  to  pull  up  a  blind  that  was  below,  and  I  was 
trying  to  let  down  the  sash,  and  I  tried  every  thing 
that  appeared  to  hold  it,  till  at  last  I  touched  some- 
thing, I  am  sure  I  do  not  know  what,  and  the  window 
fell  as  quick  as  lightning,  and  caught  the  lady's  finger 
under  it;  and  she  certainly  would  have  fainted  if  there 
had  been  a  good  place  to  fall  in.  What  to  do  with  her 
bruised  finger  she  did  not  seem  to  know.  She  would 
shake  it  with  all  her  might,  and  then  stick  it  into  her 
mouth,  and  I  all  the  while  saying,  "Are  you  much  hurt, 
madam?  are  you  hurt  badly?  I  am  sorry;  I  did  not 
intend  to  do  it."  She  turned  her  back  upon  me,  and 
would  not  say  one  word;  but  I  think  she  had  some 
very  rugged  thoughts.  I  took  a  seat  not  far  from  her, 
and  looked  as  much  distressed  as  I  could,  waiting  for 
her  to  pardon  me.  At  length  she  became  quiet,  and  I 
ventured  to  ask,  "Does  it  give  you  much  pain,  madam?" 
Then  she  spoke  for  the  first  time,  and  said  that  it  was 
very  sore,  but  that  when  she  got  somewhere  (I  could 
not  tell  where),  and  got  something  (I  could  not  hear 


A    LIVE    TEXXESSEEAX   ABROAD.  399 

what)  to  put  on  it,  it  would  ease  the  pain.  But  I  think 
it  is  easy  now,  from  the  way  she  sleeps;  though  I  have 
no  idea  that  she  has  forgiven  me,  or  that  she  would  on 
any  account  let  me  help  her  again.  What  a  tale  she 
will  tell  her  husband  about  me! 

I  have  often  thought  that  noisy  children  are  great 
bores;  but  I  tell  you  now,  the  best  thing  that  you  can 
take  into  a  railroad-car,  to  keep  the  people  off  and  se- 
cure plenty  of  room,  is  a  cross,  dirty  child.  That  lady 
there,  with  her  two  children,  has  kept  those  two  whole 
seats — room  enough  for  four  grown  persons — for  a  hun- 
dred miles;  and  notwithstanding  that  several  times  in 
the  last  two  hours  we  have  been  so  crowded  that  per- 
sons have  had  to  stand,  yet  I  have  not  seen  any  one 
manifest  the  slightest  disposition  to  take  a  seat  with 
her.  So  cross  children  are  good  for  something,  after 
all. 

I  have  just  had  a  long  talk  with  that  old  gentleman 
yonder.  He  wanted  to  know  my  name,  to  begin  with, 
and  I  told  him;  but  I  do  not  think  I  would  have  an- 
swered civilly  all  the  questions  he  asked  if  he  had  been 
a  young  man.  Old  people  will  ask  questions  in  that 
way.  He  did  not  know  but  he  might  know  some  of 
my  kin,  and  thinks  he  does;  says  he  knows  a  man  of 
my  name,  and  asked  his  old  lady  if  she  did  not  think  I 
resembled  him.  He  also  wanted  to  know  where  I  lived. 
I  told  him  that,  also;  and  after  a  little  surprise  that 
any  one  should  wander  off  so  far  from  home,  he  wished 
to  know  whether  people  in  my  parts  sowed  oats,  and 
whether  or  not  they  had  the  rust,  telling  me  that  they 
had  rusted  powerful  bad  in  his  neighborhood,  and  that 
Mr.  Clark,  his  nearest  neighbor,  had  turned  the  stock 
on  his.  I  asked  what  he  thought  was  the  cause  of  the 
rust.  Ho  said  he  reckoned  the  ground  had  just  give 


400  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

out  producing  that  kind  of  growth,  and  then  wanted 
to  know  my  opinion.  I  told  him  the  weather  was  too 
wet  at  one  time,  and  too  hot  and  dry  at  another,  and 
made  the  sap  in  the  oat  sour,  and  it  swelled  and  burst, 
and  bled  to  death.  He  said  it  mout  be  that,  for  all  he 
knowed. 

WELL,  here  is  the  city  of  R.,  and  we  shall  have  to  run 
the  gauntlet  again  with  the  hack-drivers  and  porters. 
I  do  wonder  if  there -could  not  be  some  plan  adopted  to 
save  a  poor,  tired  traveler  from  such  an  ordeal.  Now, 
just  think  of  it — two  nights  out;  your  eyes  full  of  cin- 
ders; the  sides  of  your  head  and  elbows  all  bruised 
by  the  sharp  corners  of  the  cars.  And  that  is  not  all ; 
you  have  had  no  time  to  wash,  shave,  and  change  your 
linen;  and  you  feel  as  if  you  wanted  nothing  in  the 
world  so  much  as  to  be  let  alone,  and  for  everybody  to 
get  out  of  your  way  and  let  you  pass.  But  instead  of 
that,  before  you  can  get  oif  the  car,  they  poke  their 
whips  in  at  the  windows,  meet  you  at  the  platform, 
take  hold  of  you  as  you  go  down  the  steps,  come  up 
before,  behind,  and  on  both  sides,  three  deep,  all  halloo- 
ing at  the  top  of  their  voices,  "Want  hack?  want  car- 
riage? Good  carriage!  good  carriage!  Take  you  to 
any  place.  Got  checks?  give  me  your  checks;  take 
you  cheap!"  Then  one  will  say  to  another,  "He's 
going  with  mo."  This  is  kept  up,  in  spite  of  you,  till 
you  get  quite  away  from  the  depot,  no  matter  how 
often  you  say,  "No,  no;  don't  want  you:  don't  want 
any  thing  to  do  with  you."  If  you  are  silent,  they 
only  think  you  are  hard  of  hearing,  and  halloo  still 
louder;  so  that  all  I  can  do  is  to  endure,  and  wait  for 
deliverance.  A  friend  of  mine  tried  the  plan  of  utter 
silence;  did  not  notice  any  who  called  to  him,  not  so 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  401 

much  as  to  turn  his  eyes  toward  them.  One  fellow, 
who  was  determined  to  get  him  into  his  hack,  followed 
him  closely,  and  shouted  in  his  ear  that  he  would  take 
him  to  this,  that,  and  the  other  hotel,  or  to  the  depot 
on  the  other  side  of  the  town,  but  could  get  no  answer 
until  at  length,  in  despair,  he  said,  "I  will  take  you  to 
the  deaf-and-dumb  asylum!" 

Those  hackmen  want  nothing  but  money;  they  do 
not  care  where  you  are  going,  or  what  may  become  of 
you.  While  the  greatest  number  of  them  were  within 
hearing,  I  said.  "You  do  not  charge  any  thing  for  rid- 
ing, do  you?  If  there  is  any  thing  to  pay,  I  prefer  to 
walk."  In  a  moment  their  whips  went  down,  like  sol- 
diers trailing  arms,  and  there  was  no  more  contention 
among  them  about  who  should  have  the  pleasure  of 
carrying  the  gentleman;  and  the  whole  pack  that  was 
dogging  me  turned  to  teasing  somebody  else,  and  I  got 
clear. 

Did  you  notice  that  old  gentleman  who  got  into  such 
a  difficulty  about  his  baggage?  He  has  given  up  his 
checks,  and  does  not  know  who  has  them;  and  his  old 
lady  is  in  a  peck  of  trouble  about  it.  He  has  forgotten 
the  name  of  the  hotel  which  he  told  the  check-man  he 
was  going  to.  When  old  people  travel  by  public  con- 
veyance, they  ought  to  have  with  them  some  young 
person,  who  could  take  care  of  the  baggage  and  obtain 
seats.  When  that  old  gentleman  left  home,  he  thought 
that  he  would  either  be  the  only  man  on  the  cars  or  the 
principal  one  at  any  rate,  and  that  everybody  he  should 
meet  would  be  glad  to  see  him,  and  anxious  to  know 
where  he  was  going,  and  ready  to  render  him  aid  and 
comfort.  If  he  was  in  a  buggy,  with  his  trunk  tied  on 
behind  with  a  plow-line,  and  old  Nell,  or  some  other 
quiet  beast,  to  draw  him,  and  his  old  lady  by  his  side, 


402  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

he  would  know  what  ho  was  doing;  but  these  conduct- 
ors, checks,  porters,  hotel-drummers,  and  hackmen  have 
so  confused  him  that  he  does  not  know  what  he  is  doing. 
I  thought,  when  he  gave  up  his  checks,  that  he  did  not 
know  what  he  was  about.  Not  one  among  the  hurry- 
ing crowd  around  him  cares  a  copper  for  him,  nor  has 
any  one  time  to  make  an  effort  to  relieve  him  of  his 
embarrassment.  I  do  not  believe  that  he  intended  to 
stop  in  this  town  at  all;  for  I  heard  the  old  lady  say, 
"Why  can't  we  go  on,  just  like  the  rest  of  the  people?" 
while  the  old  gentleman  does  not  seem  to  know  whether 
they  are  going  on  or  not.  Had  I  not  been  so  hurried, 
I  would  have  assisted  him  out  of  his  difficulty.  The 
last  I  saw  of  him  he  was  trying  to  describe  the  man 
who  had  taken  his  checks,  and  turning  round  and 
round,  looking  after  baggage  that  was  flying  in  every 
direction — some  on  express-wagons,  some  on  the  tops 
of  omnibuses,  some  attached  to  hacks,  some  on  hand- 
barrows,  some  on  the  shoulders  of  negroes,  and  some 
in  the  hands  of  gentlemen.  But  little  did  the  hack- 
driver  care  what  sort  of  looking  man  he  was  who  had 
taken  the  checks;  all  he  wanted  was  for  the  old  people 
to  get  into  his  hack,  pay  twenty-five  cents  each,  and 
then  get  out  again.  And,  to  make  the  matter  worse, 
the  old  lady  was  scolding  at  him  for  not  having  man- 
aged it  better;  but  I  cannot  blame  her,  for  her  new 
maroon  dress  and  finest  cap  are  in  that  trunk,  and  just 
to  think  that  she  may  never  lay  her  eyes  upon  them 
again — it  is  too  bad!  Bless  the  good  old  people!  I  trust 
they  will  soon  get  all  together  again. 

We  have  now  left  the  mountains  behind  us.  What  a 
vast  number  of  Southerners  are  hid  away  among  these 
hills  from  the  burning  heat  of  summer!  The  mount- 
ains of  Tennessee  and  Virginia  arc  destined  to  be  the 


A  LIVE  TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD.        403 

summer  home  of  the  cotton,  sugar,  and  rice  planter. 
Montgomery  White  Sulphur  Springs,  as  the  site  is  called, 
where  we  were  yesterday,  will  at  no  distant  day  rival 
Saratoga.  Its  accessibility,  its  beauty  of  location,  and 
variety  of  waters,  must  make  it  a  place  of  great  resort. 
At  present  it  lacks  shade;  but  its  growing  groves  will 
soon  supply  that.  I  was  much  pleased  with  the  char- 
acter of  the  visitors.  Among  the  eight  hundred  or 
one  thousand  persons  here,  there  was  no  gambling,  and, 
I  think,  very  little  drinking.  I  did  not  hear  an  oath 
sworn,  even  by  a  servant;  and  I  believe  that  out  of  the 
whole  number  of  persons  present  they  could  not  find 
eight  who  were  willing  to  dance.  They  have  more  ra- 
tional amusements. 

But,  to  change  the  subject,  I  have  one  sad  thing  to 
tell  you.  You,  too,  are  going  to  lose  your  name;  from 
this  time  forward,  during  your  tour  through  the  East- 
ern cities,  your  name  will  be  No.  26,  or  some  other 
number.  Travelers  are  known  here  only  by  numbers, 
checks,  tickets,  and  coppers.  No.  26  sits  in  a  certain 
chair  at  the  table ;  No.  26  wants  a  hack ;  when  your  bell 
rings,  the  servant  is  sent  to  wait  on  26;  the  merchants 
send  your  bundles  to  26 ;  and  if  you  were  to  die,  No.  26 
would  be  buried.  Porters  care  nothing  for  the  name 
you  have  had  printed  in  large  letters  on  both  ends  of 
your  trunk,  if  you  have  one,  so  that  people  may  know 
whose  trunk  it  is;  but  with  a  piece  of  chalk  they  put 
upon  it  "26,"  in  large  figures.  No.  26  at  last  pays  his 
bill  and  goes  away,  and  at  the  next  hotel  is  given  an- 
other number,  and  again  has  his  name  suppressed;  but 
when  you  are  traveling,  who  cares  where  you  arc  from, 
or  where  you  arc  going,  or  what  your  name  is?  Show 
your  ticket — that 's  the  thing.  So  in  the  cars  you  are  a 
ticket,  in  a  hotel  you  arc  a  number,  in  a  hack  you  arc 


404  A  LIVE   TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD. 

twenty-five  cents,  and  in  an  omnibus  you  are  six  cents. 
You  are  not  to  hear  your  name  called  again  until  you 
recross  the  mountains. 

WELL,  here  we  are,  in  this  city  of  the  nation,  and  the 
day  is  before  us.  But  you  will  no  doubt  divide  your 
time  between  your  book  and  the  lions  of  the  place, 
and  be  able  to  tell  all  about  the  improvements  of  the 
Capitol,  the  additional  painting  and  sculpture,  the 
Patent  Office,  the  Smithsonian  Institute,  the  Washing- 
ton and  Jackson  Monuments,  and  the  departments  of 
Government  generally.  The  ground  which  you  are  go- 
ing to  travel  over  has  been  so  worn  by  others  that  I 
do  mot  think  I  could  make  a  track  in  that  direction  if 
I  were  to  try. 

I  am  not  a  lion-hunter;  the  fact  is,  lions  are  better 
understood  at  present  than  smaller  game;  and  besides, 
it  is  rather  dangerous  sport.  A  young  gentleman  once 
said  to  an  old  African  traveler,  "Colonel,  is  it  not  mag- 
nificent sport  to  hunt  lions?"  "Yes,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"you  would  no  doubt  enjoy  hunting  lions  very  much, 
but  it  would  be  a  very  different  thing  if  the  lions 
were  to  take  it  into  their  heads  to  hunt  you."  So  take 
care  that  you  do  not  provoke  the  lions  to  hunt  you. 
All  the  big  men  and  great  institutions  of  the  nation 
have  already  sat  for  their  likenesses;  my  place  is 
among  the  masses,  and  my  specimens  from  the  rank 
and  file;  so  that  when  I  get  a  good  likeness  it  is  a 
type  for  the  million.  But  our  work  of  discovery  will 
be  greatly  lessened  by  the  fact  that  the  Rev.  E.  Carr, 
of  Tennessee,  is  in  the  city,  and  is  putting  things 
to  rights.  He  has  done  up  Petersburg  and  Richmond; 
has  not  been  here  long,  but  such  is  his  industry  that 
he  will  make  a  short  job  of  this  city.  He  has  set 


A  LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  405 

Smithson  right  with  respect  to  his  great  General  Con- 
ference picture;  found  one  of  the  reverend  doctors 
whose  face  had  been  overlooked;  caused  a  prayer- 
meeting  to  be  introduced  into  one  of  the  principal  ho- 
tels; visited  the  President — but  unfortunately  he  was 
not  at  home,  having  gone  to  Bedford  Springs,  so  he 
could  not  see  him;  but  Brother  Carr  dropped  him  a 
note  to  the  effect  that  he  (the  President)  should  give 
his  heart  to  God  and  pray  for  rain;  and  if  the  Presi- 
dent's heart  is  as  far  from  God  as  the  earth  seems  to 
be  from  rain,  it  was  timely  advice.  ~Now  for  a  tramp. 

Well,  here  we  are;  another  day  spent,  and  night  is 
upon  us.  It  has  been  very  hot.  Do  you  not  think  if 
the  sun  were  taken  down  that  the  Yankees  would  find 
out  some  plan  to  illuminate  the  world  with  gas  and  give 
us  light  enough  without  so  much  heat?  For  my  part, 
I  am  glad  the  sun  is  out  of  reach,  or  the  people  up  this 
way  would  be  for  trying  it;  for  there  is  a  general  dis- 
satisfaction with  the  location  of  the  hills,  hollows,  and 
streams,  and  as  far  as  they  are  able,  they  are  changing 
the  whole  of  them. 

Some  person  has  well  said  of  this  place  that  it  is  a 
city  of  magnificent  distances;  to  take  a  hack  I  can  see 
nothing,  and  to  go  on  foot  wears  me  out. 

I  never  go  into  a  large  city  but  the  question  natu- 
rally suggests  itself  to  my  mind,  Where  do  all  these 
people  get  a  support?  I  suppose,  however,  that  each 
and  all  of  them  could  give  an  answer  if  called  on  to  do 
so;  at  any  rate,  the  inhabitants  of  this  city  have  one 
comfort — the  grounds  around  the  Capitol,  than  which 
none  more  beautiful  are  to  be  found  anywhere.  The 
citizens,  in  self-defense  during  the  dull  season,  have 
established  a  plan  for  recreation  which  I  think  is  a 
good  one.  For  a  gentleman  and  lady  to  dress  them- 


406  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

selves  up  and  go  out  to  look  and  be  looked  at,  while  all 
the  rest  of  the  inhabitants  are  either  in  their  houses 
or  else  at  work,  is  any  thing  but  pleasant,  and  one  soon 
feels  like  a  loafer;  but  these  people  have  reduced  to  a 
system  this  thing  of  going  out  to  show  themselves. 
On  Saturday  afternoon  the  city  band  repairs  to  the 
grounds  of  the  Capitol  to  make  music,  and  the  people 
(all  the  people)  dress  themselves  up  in  their  best, 
go  to  these  grounds,  and  pass  the  time  in  promenad- 
ing and  listening  to  the  music.  And  now,  lest  I  forget 
it,  let  me  say,  I  wonder  that  the  thousands  who  visit 
here  do  not  take  items  in  the  fitting  up  of  grounds. 
Three  things,  and  three  only,  are  necessary  for  the 
purpose:  trees,  grass,  and  gravel.  Bushes,  vines,  and 
shrubs,  are  beautiful  things,  but  they  belong  together, 
and  whenever  the  attempt  is  made  to  mix  them  up  with 
forest  trees  and  grass,  the  whole  effect  is  lost — it  is 
neither  a  flower-garden  nor  beautiful  grounds.  The 
offense  given  to  the  eye  is  not  all  that  is  objectionable: 
the  shrubs  obstruct  the  wind,  and.  as  a  matter  of  course, 
increase  the  heat,  besides  forming  a  protection  for  flics. 
and  coverts  for  worms,  bugs,  insects,  and  weeds.  I 
had  rather  go  from  such  a  place  than  to  it;  but  give 
me  smooth  trees,  green  grass,  and  well-graveled  walks, 
and  nothing  can  come  nearer  to  enchantment.  Fount- 
ains soften  and  cool  the  air,  and  rustic  seats  are  con- 
venient to  visitors,  but  neither  are  essential  to  the 
construction  of  grounds. 

"Well,  as  I  was  going  to  say,  I  made  my  way  to  these 
grounds,  and  walked  around  until,  finding  myself  in 
pretty  much  the  same  company  all  the  time,  I  took  my 
stand  by  a  tree,  and  watched  the  multitude  as  it  passed. 
You  cannot  see  any  thing  like  it  anywhere  else  that  I 
know  of— Broadway,  New  York,  is  not  like  it;  there 


A   LIVE    TEXXESSEEAN   ABROAD.  407 

men  prevail,  and  women  are  generally  young  or  mid- 
dle-aged, not  many  children;  but  here  there  were  old 
and  young,  men  and  women,  servants  and  babies,  all 
in  their  best  outfit;  some  came  by  slowly  and  quietly, 
others  seemed  to  be  in  a  great  hurry,  some  looking  at 
others,  some  at  themselves;  some  in  groups,  others 
alone;  those  so  old  and  feeble  they  could  scarcely  walk, 
and  these  so  light  and  puffed  up  that  they  could 
scarcely  keep  down  to  the  ground.  One  man  came  by 
puffing  and  blowing — his  dimensions  were  immense, 
and  reminded  me  of  a  retreating  army,  which  always 
carries  its  baggage  in  front.  He  leaned  back  at  such 
an  angle — to  balance,  I  suppose — that  the  lowest  tip 
of  his  coat-tail  was  seen  following  on  several  feet  be- 
hind him.  The  next  person  that  arrested  my  atten- 
tion I  think  was  from  the  hills  of  Vermont,  and  I  am 
of  the  opinion  that  he  is  in  some  way  interested  in  a 
patent  churn;  is  about  six  feet  four  inches  in  height, 
and  exceedingly  lean ;  with  pantaloons  braced  up  as 
high  as  his  arms  would  permit,  which  made  them  too 
short  at  the  bottom;  his  coat  was  blue,  with  metallic- 
buttons,  long  in  the  waist,  short  in  the  breast,  and  its 
tail  like  that  of  a  martin's;  his  vest  was  short  and 
buttoned  very  tightly;  around  his  neck  was  a  white 
handkerchief  spotted  with  blue,  tied  remarkably  tight; 
his  hat  was  a  real  bell-crown,  and  being  too  large,  was 
tied  extra  tight  at  the  band,  which  gave  the  rim  pecul- 
iar and  unmanageable  twists.  His  motion  was  ex- 
ceedingly elastic,  and  he  moved  about  with  a  kind  of 
convulsive  start,  but  keeping  constantly  in  motion,  ex- 
cept when  stopping  to  read  the  signs  that  were  stuck 
up  on  the  trees  throughout  the  grounds  warning  per- 
sons to  "keep  off  the  grass."  I  never  saw  him  pass 
one  of  these  little  boards  without  first  stopping  to  read 


408  A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

it.  But  his  main  object,  from  first  to  last,  seemed  to  bo 
to  keep  out  of  everybody's  way,  and  at  the  same  time 
to  keep  off  the  grass.  Look  at  him  when  you  might, 
he  Avas  dodging.  I  tried  twice  to  overtake  this  live 
Yankee,  and  would  gladly  have  given  a  dollar  to  talk 
with  him  five  minutes;  but  his  habit  of  dodging  pre- 
vailed, so  that  I  could  not  get  near  him.  In  one  in- 
stance I  saw  him  fairly  routed.  A  gentleman,  two 
large  ladies,  and  a  child,  came  meeting  him,  and  com- 
pletely filled  up  the  walk.  He  looked  to  the  right  and 
to  the  left,  but  they  did  not  give  way,  and  "Keep  off 
the  grass"  was  ringing  in  his  ear:;  so  seeing  no  way 
around,  over,  or  under,  he  suddenly  whirled  and  took 
the  back  track,  walking  with  great  rapidity;  and  as 
that  path  led  out  one  of  the  gates,  the  last  I  saw  of 
him  he  was  dodging  the  hacks  and  hackmen  about  the 
entrance,  and  is  probably  dodging  somewhere  at  this 
moment.  I  will  venture  just  here  to  assure  his  wife, 
children,  and  all  concerned,  that  he  will  never  be  run 
over.  You  may  tangle  him  up  among  horses,  mules, 
ox-wagons,  drays,  stages,  carts,  omnibuses,  carriages, 
and  railroad-cars,  but  he  will  never  be  run  over.  I 
suspect  that  when  he  left  home  for  the  great  Federal 
city,  his  friends  warned  him  against  this  danger;  but 
they  may  all  feel  perfectly  easy  on  that  subject.  After 
all,  it  is  a  useful  part  of  an  education  to  learn  to  keep 
out  of  the  way.  Those  who  cross  Broadway  find  use 
for  it.  I  hope  to  overtake  this  dodger  somewhere  yet. 

THESE  Falls  have  something  real  about  them.  No 
man  ever  came  here  and  went  away  disappointed,  say- 
ing they  were  all  a  humbug.  Travelers  in  the  New 
World  will  come  here,  no  matter  where  else  they  may 
wish  to  go.  What  changes  have  taken  place  since  I 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  409 

was  first  on  these  banks!  There  was  no  town  here 
then,  nor  was  there  a  regular  conveyance  to  the  place 
from  any  direction.  A  stage  ran  from  Albany  to  Buf- 
.  falo,  but  it  did  not  come  by  the  Falls;  and  as  to  rail- 
roads— there  were  none  of  them  in  the  country  at  that 
time.  I  remember  leaving  the  stage  at  Syracuse,  be- 
ing told  that  it  was  the  only  place  where  I  could  pro- 
cure'a  private  conveyance  to  the  Falls;  and  all  that  I 
could  find  there  was  a  little  one-horse  wagon,  a  seat 
across  the  center,  with  a  buffalo-robe  on  it  for  a  cush- 
ion. In  this  I  made  my  way  to  the  Falls  through  a 
very  sparsely-populated  country;  and  when  I  told  peo- 
ple on  the  route  that  my  only  object  was  to  see  the 
Falls,  some  of  them  looked  at  me  in  a  manner  which 
seemed  to  say,  "Well,  young  man,  if  that's  all  you  are 
after,  you  are  poorly  employed."  Some  who  lived 
within  hearing  of  the  roar  of  the  waters  had  never 
been  to  look  at  them.  About  the  only  man  I  met  with 
on  the  way  wha  gave  me  any  encouragement  was  an 
Indian  preacher  named  Peter  Jones,  who  told  me  I 
would  be  fully  paid  for  my  trouble.  It  was  about  the 
20th  of  June,  and  there  was  not  a  visitor  from  the 
States,  that  I  can  remember.  There  were  two  English 
families  there,  and  they  pretty  well  filled  up  the  only 
house  of  entertainment,  which  was  rather  a  small  es- 
tablishment. Railroads,  hotels,  omnibuses,  hacks,  sus- 
pension bridges,  and  Maids  of  the  Mist,  had  not  been 
thought  of  in  connection  with  this  place.  The  way 
we  reached  Goat  Island  was  by  a  nari-ow  trestle-walk 
with  a  rail  on  one  side,  across  the  main  branch  of  the 
American  chute,  and  a  very  imperfect  little  bridge 
across  the  smaller  chute;  both  intended  for  footmen 
only;  horses  and  wheels  had  as  yet  never  found  their 
way  to  the  island.  I  descended  the  bank  somewhere 
18 


410  A   LIVE   TENXESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

on  Goat  Island  by  a  ladder,  and  crossed  over  to  the 
Canada  shore  in  a  canoe. 

I  have  been  here  often  since,  but  think  the  Falls 
have  never  appeared  so  interesting  to  me  as  they  did 
in  their  unadorned  grandeur  on  my  first  visit;  there 
was  more  of  the  terrible  about  them  then;  the  bridges, 
roads,  ferries,  and  tower,  have  a  taming  influence. 
How  different  the  elements  when  bridled  and  held  in 
subjection  from  what  they  are  when  they  have  great 
mass-meetings,  and  get  up  mobs,  and  run  riot!  How 
harmless  that  lucifer-match  when  just  ignited!  it  will 
not  even  fire  your  cigar;  but  see  the  burning  mount- 
ain breathe  sulphurous  smoke  and  flame,  at  one  time 
darkening  the  heavens,  and  again,  under  the  influence 
of  a  mighty  throe,  pouring  out  liquid  fire,  as  though 
Tophet  itself  had  exploded,  inundating  town  and  coun- 
try. Or,  look  at  the  prairie  on  fire,  burning  with  a 
madness  which  seems  to  be  accumulative,  and  spread- 
ing with  the  haste  of  an  evil  spirit  on  an  errand  of 
vengeance.  The  wind  —  at  one  time  so  calm  that  it 
would  not  move  the  festoons  of  a  spider's  web,  but 
when  called  out  on  parade  or  gotten  into  a  rage,  the 
mighty  oak  is  taken  up  as  a  very  little  thing,  and  cities 
are  scattered  before  it  as  a  bundle  of  straws.  See  that 
little,  gentle,  softly -gliding  brook,  meandering  slowly 
through  field  and  grove;  but  now  stand  on  this  bridge 
and  look  at  the  water — every  drop  seems  to  be  brim- 
ful of  wrath;  and,  look  any  way  you  will,  it  appears 
to  be  hunting  around,  like  some  enraged  monster,  for 
something  to  destroy;  the  very  rocks  are  torn  to  pieces, 
the  earth  seems  trembling  with  fear;  and  the  thought 
of  my  own  fate,  were  I  in  its  power,  fills  me  with  dread ; 
and  when  you  follow  the  water  to  where  it  makes  that 
dreadful  plunge,  and  go  below,  each  troubled  and  angry 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEE  AN   ABROAD.  411 

drop  seems  to  be  looking  around  as  though  anxious  to 
see  what  ruin  it  had  wrought;  so  that  in  contemplating 
this  greatest  of  all  natural  curiosities,  I  experience  a 
mingled  feeling  of  fear,  awe,  and  delight,  arid  do  not 
know  which  of  these  sensations  predominates;  I  think, 
however,  that  the  improvements  around  here  have  had 
the  effect  to  somewhat  dispel  the  first  of  them;  still, 
it  is  a  fearful  place,  and  holds  me  awe-struck  for  the 
greater  part  of  my  time ;  and  fond  as  I  am  of  a  plunge- 
bath,  I  shall  never  get  into  these  waters,  unless  it  be 
by  accident. 

Do  you  intend  to  see  the  man  walk  a  rope  across  the 
river  this  evening?  There  is  no  use  in  asking  that 
question,  for  I  know  you  would  sit  here  all  day  work- 
ing into  a  bit  of  table-rock  with  your  pen-knife,  just 
to  see  what  it  is  made  of,  rather  than  go  a  mile  to  wit- 
ness one  of  the  greatest  feats  ever  performed.  Yet.  I 
think  I  could  get  you  with  me  sight-seeing  this  time 
if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  you  saw  a  man  hanged 
when  you  were  a  boy,  and  afterward  had  so  many  bad 
dreams  about  it,  you  promised  yourself  never  again 
to  look  upon  any  frightful  scene.  ^ 

Well,  my  way  of  getting  on  with  such  a  case  is  this: 
If  the  fellow  falls,  it  will  be  his  nerves  that  suffer,  not 
mine.  It  is  thought  by  many  that  the  man  who  was 
to  ride  over  on  the  back  of  this  daring  rope-walker  is 
about  to  back  out,  and  although  that  was  to  form  a  chief 
portion  of  the  excitement  of  the  day,  yet  I  could  not 
blame  him  if  he  did;  I  should  prefer,  in  such  a  case — 
if  it  were  not  for  the  name  of  riding — to  make  the  trip 
on  foot.  Well,  work  away  among  these  strata  of  rocks, 
and  on  my  return  I  will  tell  you  all  about  what  I  saw, 
for  you  will  want  to  know  what  happened,  notwith- 
standing you  won't  go  yourself. 


412  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

Back  again!     "Well,  did  you  sec  the  man  walk  the 
rope?"     "I  did  that!"     "But  did  he  carry  the  other 
man  on  his  back?"     "Yes,  he  carried  the  man  on  his 
back,  and  no  mistake!     When  I  went  down  there  my 
first  thought  was  to  take  a  position  on  the  bank  two 
hundred  yards  above  the  rope,  so  as  to  be  out  of  the 
crowd  and  run  no  risk  of  being  pushed  off  the  bluff; 
but  I  soon  found  that  "the  crowd  would  extend  for  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  above  and  below  where  the  rope  was 
anchored;  so  concluded,  if  I  had  to  be  in  a  crowd,  to 
get  as  close  as  possible,  and  went  down  toward  the 
rope,  but  discovered  that  several  acres  there  were  in- 
closed by  a  high  fence,  inside  of  which  one  could  only 
enter  by  paying  twenty-five  cents.     I  paid  it,  and  was 
let  in,  but  met  with  another  difficulty:  all  along  on 
the  bluff  above  and  below  the  rope  and  inside  of  the 
fence  seats  were  erected   in   amphitheater  form,  and 
only  those  who  occupied  them  could  see  any  thing,  as 
their  height  in  the  rear  obstructed  the  view  of  all  who 
were  standing  on  the  ground  behind  them.     Here  I 
was  told  that  by  paying  another  quarter  I  could  secure 
a  seat;  I  paid  ^e  money,  and  took  one  within  twenty 
yards  of  the  anchor  on  the  American  shore;  so  that 
the  entire  rope,  man,  and  all,  were  in  full  view,  and 
could  not  be  obscured.     My  only  fear  was  that  the 
multitude  behind  us  might  press  until  seats  and  all 
would  go  over  the  bluff,  which  was  about  one  hundred 
feet  perpendicular;  but  I  soon  forgot  the  possibility 
of  danger  in  that  direction.     The  place  where  the  rope 
was  thrown  across  was  about  five  hundred  yards  above 
the  wire  bridge.     The  length  of  the  rope  from  anchor 
to  anchor  was  eleven  hundred  and  forty  feet;  it  was 
about  one  inch  and  a  quarter  in  diameter,  and  its  low- 
est dip  in  the  center  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 


A    LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  413 

above  the  water;  the  slack,  or  swag,  in  the  center  was, 
from  the  best  measurement  I  could  make  with  my  eye, 
about  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet  below  the  level  of  the 
anchors.  These  depressions  seemed  to  be  mainly  near 
each  shore,  so  that  I  should  judge  that  the  descent  on 
each  side  for  fifty  yards  was  at  an  angle  of  at  least 
twenty  degrees,  which  I  supposed  would  be  extremely 
difficult  for  Monsieur  Blondin  to  overcome  with  a  man 
on  his  back.  The  guy-ropes  were  small — not  more 
than  half  or  three-quarter  inch  in  diameter,  and  ex- 
tended about  one-third  the  distance  across  from  each 
shore,  so  as  to  leave  about  one  hundred  and  thirty 
yards  in  the  center  without  any  side  support — nothing 
but  the  single  rope.  Such  is  the  construction  of  the 
web  that  this  two-legged  spider  has  spread  across  this 
fearful  stream,  this  dreadful  gulf. 

"The  crowd  was  immense — never  did  I  see  so  many 
human  beings  together  before;  it  was  estimated  at  from 
thirty-five  to  forty  thousand.  At  about  four  o'clock 
Blondin  and  some  of  his  friends  made  their  appear- 
ance at  the  end  of  the  rope,  near  where  I  sat.  Ten  or 
fifteen  minutes  were  spent  in  little  preparations  and 
conversation  before  Monsieur  made  his  start,  which 
gave  me  an  opportunity  of  examining  his  person  fully. 
He  is  apparently  twenty-eight  or  thirty  years  of  nge, 
looks  as  though  he  would  weigh  one  hundred  and  forty 
pounds,  though  I  have  been  told  he  does  not  weigh  over 
one  hundred  and  thirty;  his  features  are  rather  smooth 
and  handsome,  while  his  countenance  is  effeminate; 
light  hair  and  blue  eyes;  his  form  and  proportions 
were  just  and  symmetrical,  and,  to  judge  from  his  ap- 
pearance, his  habits  must  be  perfectly  temperate, 
while  the  whole  expression  of  the  man  was  gentle  and 
amiable;  there  was  no  semblance  of  recklessness  in 


414  A  LIVE   TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD. 

him.  His  head  was  bare;  his  shirt  and  pantaloons, 
which  seemed  to  constitute  his  wardrobe,  except  fancy- 
colored  straps  that  passed  over  his  shoulders,  I  took 
to  be  of  thick,  heavy,  elastic  silk  goods.  His  feet  were 
covered  with  close-fitting  moccasins,  made  of  heavy, 
dressed  buckskin;  his  hands  were  bare,  and  seemed 
rather  large  for  a  man  of  his  size.  His  balancing-rod, 
I  think,  was  about  fifteen  feet  long,  one  and  a  half  inch 
in  diameter  in  the  center,  tapering  a  little  to  the  ends, 
and  a  gentleman  near  me  said  it  weighed  thirty-two 
pounds;  if  so,  it  must  be  made  of  very  heavy  timber. 
He  is  now  hanging  to  his  side  a  bundle  of  papers,  and 
putting  some  strings  into  his  pockets,  for  what  pur- 
pose I  know  not.  At  this  moment  a  brass  band,  which 
I  had  not  noticed  before,  commenced  performing  a 
piece  of  music  in  quick  time.  Blondin's  rod  is  in  his 
hand,  and,  with  a  graceful  bow  to  the  multitude,  he 
glides  forth  upon  his  pilgrimage  on  this  almost  invisi- 
ble thread  across  this  boiling  gulf.  He  set  out  in  a 
fast  trot,  almost  a  run,  which  thrilled  ten  thousand 
nerves;  now  and  then  a  short  grunt  could  be  heard  in 
various  parts  of  the  crowd,  as  though  some  one  was 
suddenly  shocked  with  pain.  But  Blondin  went  for- 
ward, sometimes  walking  slowly  and  with  caution,  then 
suddenly  turning  his  head  down  on  the  rope  and  his 
heels  high  in  the  air;  first  on  one  foot  then  on  the 
other,  performing  all  kinds  of  antics,  till  at  length  he 
passed  over  to  where  the  guy -ropes  extending  from  the 
Canada  shore  connected;  here  he  stopped,  took  the 
strings  from  his  pocket,  tied  his  balancing-rod  to  the 
main  rope  and  a  guy,  and  came  back  over  the  main 
rope,  sometimes  walking  on  his  feet,  then  on  his  hands, 
at  times  stopping  to  stand  first  on  his  feet,  then  on  his 
head;  now  he  is  below  the  rope,  traveling  hand  over 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  415 

hand,  the  next  moment  he  is  'skinning  the  cat,'  as 
the  boys  call  it;  now  he  has  dropped  below  the  rope 
and  is  hanging  by  one  foot;  now  he  is  lying  directly 
across  the  rope,  and  moving  his  arms  and  legs  as  if 
swimming;  he  is  on  his  feet  again,  turned  a  somersault 
forward,  then  backward.  'Well,  he  will  never  fall 
after  that,'  said  one.  He  now  returned  to  his  rod, 
untied  it,  and  walked  on,  performing  various  feats,  until 
he  was  received  with  wild  acclamation  by  the  host  on 
the  other  shore  and  the  music  of  the  band — for  there 
was  a  band  on  each  side  of  the  river.  After  a  delay 
of  twenty  minutes  the  band  on  the  farther  shore  began 
with  a  thundering  chorus,  and  Blondin  again  appeared 
on  the  rope,  with  a  man  upon  his  back,  whom  he 
brought  safely  across  to  the  American  side  in  about 
twenty  minutes;  he  walked  slowly,  though,  and  with 
great  caution,  and  five  times  set  the  man  down  on  the 
rope  to  rest,  which  consumed  at  each  time  a  little  more 
than  a  minute.  In  ascending  the  heavy  grade  of  the 
rope  on  the  American  shore  I  thought  he  had  about  as 
much  as  he  could  do,  and  on  reaching  the  land  he 
looked  flushed  and  exhausted,  while  the  man  he  car- 
ried was  rather  pale — though  he  may  look  that  way  all 
the  time.  There  was  long  and  loud  cheering,  then  the 
multitude  dispersed,  many  no  doubt  greatly  disap- 
pointed, for  thousands  came  to  see  him  kill  himself; 
and  as  soon  as  it  is  understood  there  is  no  danger,  they 
will  cease  to  come." 

I  have  often  heard  it  said  that  it  takes  a  great  many 
different  kinds  of  people  to  make  a  world ;  and  whether 
it  is  necessary  to  have  so  many  kinds  or  not,  there  is 
quite  a  variet}r  in  human  character.  While  we  are  told 
by  St.  Paul  that  of  one  blood  God  made  all  the  nations 
that  dwell  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  yet,  from  some 


41 G         A  LIVE  TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD. 

cause  or  other,  unknown  to  us,  there  are  a  great  many 
phases  and  castes  to  be  met  with.  After  all,  the  char- 
acter of  places  differ  about  as  much  as  the  character  of 
men. 

After  you  went  to  sleep  last  night,  I  was  thinking 
about  this  place,  and  it  is  truly  remarkable.  The  whole 
city  is  sustained  by  travelers,  or  nearly  so.  There  is  a 
little  show  of  machinery  moved  by  the  rapids;  a  few 
dozen  Indians  are  employed  on  bead -work;  and  a  few 
persons  are  engaged  in  making  ornaments  out  of  the 
spar  taken  from  fragments  of  the  Table  Rock.  The 
sales  of  bead-work  and  spar  ornaments  are  almost  ex- 
clusively to  travelers;  so  that  if  the  travel  were  cut  off, 
this  city  would  be  dried  up  in  short  order.  The  various 
plans  practiced  to  get  money  from  visitors  are  really 
worth  studying;  let  us  look  at  them  for  a  few  minutes. 
Hotels  are  necessary,  and  here  they  are.  The  omnibus 
men  must  be  provided  for;  so  the  trains  stop  at  so 
great  a  distance  from  the  hotels  as  to  make  walking 
almost  impossible.  The  great  number  of  persons  in- 
terested in  omnibuses  thus  find  a  support;  for  the  depot 
might  as  well  have  been  in  the  middle  of  the  town  as 
anywhere  else.  There  was  one  mistake  made  in  the 
location  of  the  town — it  is  too  near  the  Falls  for  the 
general  interest  of  hackmen;  but  it  is  curious  to  see 
how  this  difficulty  has  been  overcome.  If  you  stop  on 
the  American  side,  they  will  tell  you  that  if  you  wish 
to  have  a  good  view,  you  should  go  over  to  the  Canada 
side;  should  you  stop  on  the  Canada  side,  then  Goat 
Island  is  the  great  place;  so  that  a  hack  must  be 
brought  into  service,  and  you  must  go  down  and  cross 
on  the  great  suspension  bridge.  That  is  not  all.  They 
will  ask  you  if  you  are  not  going  to  see  the  Burning 
Spring,  and  Lundy's  Lane,  and  the  Whirlpool,  and  the 


A  LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  417 

Devil's  Den,  and  Bloody  Run — "everybody  goes  to  see 
these  places." 

Well,  now  for  a  trade  with  a  hackman,  and  there  are 
probably  five  or  six  present,  all  interested  in  the  same 
company;  and  if  there  is  one  of  them  who  has  his  hack 
engaged,  and  cannot  take  you  at  any  price,  he  will  be 
the  first  to  offer  his  services.  He  asks  a  price  that  per- 
fectly astounds  you,  and  which  he  knows  you  will  not 
give.  You  complain  that  his  price  is  too  high,  upon 
which  he  turns  away,  with  superb  independence,  and 
says  that  he  will  not  take  you  for  one  cent  less.  At 
this  moment  up  comes  another,  and  speaks  in  a  low 
tone,  as  though  he  were  afraid  the  first  would  hear  him, 
"  I  will  take  you  for  so  much."  But  the  first  hears  him, 
and  pretends  to  become  angry  that  this  second  man 
should  work  so  cheap,  and  break  down  prices.  Now, 
you  think,  is  your  time  to  close  in ;  and  you  agree  to  go 
with  the  Second;  and,  after  all,  you  pay  two  or  three 
prices.  So  if  you  go  sight-seeing,  you  will  pay  five  dol- 
lars for  about  two  hours'  service.  When  you  get  to  the 
bridge,  you  must  pay  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents  more  to 
get  your  hack  across.  The  man  that  drives  is  not  the 
man  with  whom  you  made  the  contract;  says  he  knows 
nothing  about  it;  has  no  money;  and  the  passengers 
always  pay  it.  No  use;  you  are  in  for  it,  and  must  pay 
it.  One-half  mile  farther  you  come  to  a  toll-gate;  here 
you  fuss  and  grumble,  but  you  have  to  pay  again. 
Next  you  are  at  the  Burning  Spring.  "  Will  this  spring 
burn,  Mister?"  asks  one  of  your  party.  "Yes,"  says 
the  man,  "if  you  put  fire  to  it."  "Let  us  see  it." 
"Just  record  your  names  yonder,  and  give  me  a  quarter 
apiece,  and  I  will."  Well,  you  are  at  the  Burning 
Spring,  and  not  to  see  it  burn  would  be  too  bad.  You 
pay  again. 
18* 


418  A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

Next,  Lundy's  Lane.  On  reaching  the  place  you  find 
a  wooden  structure,  of  suspicious  appearance  in  point 
of  safety,  some  hundred  feet  high.  "Do  you  want  to 
go  Tip?"  inquires  the  keeper.  "Just  record  your  names, 
and  pay  twenty -five  cents  each."  Down  goes  your 
money,  and  up  you  go,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  when 
you  reach  the  top  you  will  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
look.  When  you  get  there  you  see  the  country  around ; 
but  what  of  that?  You  do  not  know  where  the  battle 
was  fought,  after  all.  You  will  find  an  old  English- 
man on  hand,  who  was  in  the  battle,  and  if  you  will 
give  him  another  quarter,  he  will  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Out  comes  another  quarter. 

The  Devil's  Hole  is  next  to  be  visited.  On  the  edge 
of  the  precipice,  at  the  top  of  the  stair-way  leading 
downward,  you  come  to  a  little  shanty,  and  the  keeper 
asks,  "Wish  to  go  down, gentlemen?  wish  to  go  down? 
Record  your  names.  Twenty -five  cents,  gentlemen, 
twenty-five  cents."  You  pay  it,  and  down  you  go,  for 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet;  and  then  you  come  up 
again,  tired  enough,  and  never  say  one  word  to  any- 
body. 

Now,  you  wish  to  know  what  is  to  be  seen  at  these 
places;  you  will  have  to  go  and  see  for  yourself. 

It  will  not  do  to  omit  a,  visit  to  Goat  Island.  By 
this  time  your  patience  with  hackmen  and  charges  is 
exhausted,  and  you  decide  that  you  will  walk.  Before 
you  get  to  the  island  a  man  at  a  little  house  between 
the  two  spans  tells  you  that  you  must  pay  fifty  cents, 
but  that  it  is  for  the  season.  "For  what  season?" 
"For  the  whole  season."  You  say,  "I  shall  leave  this 
evening,  never  to  return."  But  you  must  buy  a  season 
ticket.  Out  comes  your  purse  again.  Another  man 
came  up  to  me,  and  asked  me  to  give  him  money  to 


A    LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  419 

show  me  the  Falls.  "Can  I  not  sec  the  Falls  myself?" 
"O  yes;  but  I  would  point  out  interesting  points  to 
you."  Then  you  go  down  the  spiral  stair-way;  every- 
body goes  down,  and  so  must  you.  Down  you  go,  and 
under  the  bluff  you  find  a  little  shanty,  clinging  to  the 
rocks  like  an  eagle's  nest.  Out  comes  a  vei-y  polite 
gentleman,  and  says,  "Want  to  go  through  the  Cave  of 
the  Winds?  Put  on  this  suit."  Off  go  your  clothes, 
and  on  goes  the  suit,  and  through  the  Cave  of  the 
Winds  you  go.  Only  fifty  cents.  If  you  wish  to  know 
what  there  is  in  that  cave,  go  and  see  for  yourself. 

But  the  great  sight  is  yet  to  be  seen;  we  have  to  go 
under  the  sheet  of  water.  Fifty  cents,  another  suit  of 
clothes,  and  a  guide.  Do  you  want  to  know  if  the 
sight  is  worth  all  this  labor  and  cost?  Go  and  see  for 
yourself. 

Well,  you  would  now  suppose  you  had  seen  every 
thing  about  the  Falls;  not  so.  Do  you  not  hear  the. 
Maid  of  the  Mist  blowing  her  whistle,  and  see  people 
crowding  on  her  deck,  and  putting  on  such  funny  suits 
of  clothes?  Here  goes  fifty  cents  more,  and  when  you 
return  a  dime  to  the  railroad  to  bring  you  up  the  bluff. 

But  I  will  tell  a  little  more  about  the  hackmen.  Not- 
withstanding that  I  paid  twice  the  value  of  the  service 
rendered,  it  was  only  half  the  sum  the  first  man  asked. 
As  a  class,  they  seem  to  be  wholly  destitute  of  principle. 

THIS  Atlantic  city  is  an  interesting  spot,  on  many 
accounts.  You  have  not  only  the  sea-breeze,  but  the 
sea  itself,  with  all  that  can  make  the  sea-shore  attract- 
ive. A  more  lovely  beach  cannot  be  imagined  than  wo 
have  here  at  low  tide — smooth,  and  unobstructed  for 
twelve  miles  by  either  stream  or  inlet;  so  that  those 
who  like  a  drive  on  the  sea-shore  can  be  accommodated 


420  A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

here  to  their  heart's  content  The  vegetation  near  the 
sea  has  a  singular  appearance.  The  ocean  wind  trims 
the  tops  of  the  black-gums,  maples,  and  hollies  as  com- 
pletely as  any  gardener  trims  the  tops  of  his  hedges 
with  his  shears.  If  you  wish  to  know  the  height  of 
the  trees,  you  have  only  to  find  the  elevation  of  the 
sand-bank  along  the  shore;  not  one  inch  higher  will 
the  wind  permit  the  trees  to  grow.  The  trees  are  high 
from  the  ground  in  proportion  to  the  depression  of  the 
earth  landward  from  the  sand-bank.  Thus  they  grow 
according  to  an  agrarian  plan;  if  one  tree  is  larger 
than  another,  it  makes  all  its  gain  at  the  bottom.  To 
grow  tall,  they  must  commence  in  a  low  place.  The 
increase  in  the  size  of  a  tree  is  generally  in  latitude, 
and  not  in  altitude.  This  is  probably  the  reason  why 
the  branches  are  thrown  about  in  such  wild  confusion. 
I  have  just  returned  from  seeing  the  twin-trees,  as 
-they  are  called.  They  are  quite  a  curiosity.  They 
stand  about  ten  feet  apart,  correspond  very  well  in  size, 
and  appear  to  be  about  thirty  years  old.  Some  twelve 
feet  from  the  ground  they  are  united  by  a  limb  about 
as  large  as  your  arm,  and  it  is  impossible  to  tell  which 
of  the  two  trees  it  originally  belonged  to.  Its  junc- 
tion with  both  trees  is  natural  and  perfect;  it  is  nearly 
straight,  with  a  slight  upward  flexure  at  the  center. 

The  surf-bathing,  after  all,  is  the  greatest  attraction 
here.  But  you  will  not  go  in;  and  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  whether  it  is  the  fear  of  sharks  or  dread  of  the 
water  that  keeps  you  out.  If  it  is  a  fear  of  being 
drowned,  you  should  do  as  my  old  New  Hampshire 
friend  did.  I  wish  you  would  find  out  his  name  for 
me.  I  have  tried  every  plan  I  can  think  of  but  to  ask 
him,  and  that  I  can  never  do.  He  has  discovered 
mine  by  hearing  you  and  the  ladies  call  me;  but  none 


A   LIVE    TEXXESSEEAN    ABROAD.  421 

of  the  people  here  know  his  name,  or  if  they  do,  they 
have  not  mentioned  it  in  my  hearing.  I  looked  into  his 
hat,  but  found  nothing  there  but  one  glove.  I  under- 
stand that  he  is  employed  in  the  boot  and  shoe-making 
business,  and  makes  them  altogether  with  pegs;  he 
does  nothing  else;  and  you  could  not  find  out  in  one 
month  how  I  came  by  this  information.  Well,  as  an 
Irishman  would  say,  it  was  after  this  wise:  On  yester- 
day evening,  as  Col.  S.  'and  myself  were  laying  our 
plans  for  u  good  ocean  swim,  instead  of  a  bath,  he  was 
listening  very  attentively;  and  this  morning,  when  the 
Colonel  and  I,  with  some  young  gentlemen  of  our  party, 
set  out  for  the  sea-shore,  all  as  free  from  worldly  incum- 
brance  as  people  ever  are — having  laid  aside  and  left 
behind  all  but  our  dusters — and  were  getting  along  as 
well  as  we  could,  bare-footed,  there  was  old  Mr.  New 
Hampshire  (I  shall  henceforth  call  him  Mr.  By  Degrees) 
also  making  his  way  to  the  ocean  waves.  "We  were 
soon  on  the  beach,  and  buffeting  away  with  the  most 
delightful  surf.  I  happened  to  look  toward  the  shore, 
and  saw  my  old  friend  By  Degrees  in  the  briny  deep,  up 
to  where  the  calves  of  his  legs  ought  to  have  been,  if 
they  had  not  seemed  to  have  been  left  off,  for  some 
reason  or  other.  He  was  dipping  up  water  with  his 
hand,  and  wetting  the  top  of  his  head.  I  asked  him 
what  he  was  doing  that  for.  He  said  it  was  to  keep 
the  blood  from  rushing  to  the  head,  and  went  on  to  say 
that  it  was  always  better  to  wet  the  head  first.  I  then 
asked  him  if  he  was  afraid  of  apoplexy.  He  said  he 
did  not  think  there  was  much  danger  of  that;  but  it 
might  be  that  he  would  take  something  like  congestion. 
From  the  top  of  his  head  to  the  ground  he  is,  I  think, 
about  six  feet  long — that  is,  when  he  is  straight.  He 
appears  to  be  about  fifty-five  years  old,  is  nearly  bald, 


422  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAX   ABROAD. 

and  has  a  remarkably  long  face;  his  eyes  are  very  near 
the  top  of  his  head,  and  the  lower  part  of  his  face  is  so 
heavy  that  it  seems  to  have  drawn  down  the  center 
until  the  inner  corners  of  his  eyes  are  much  lower  than 
the  outer  corners,  causing  his  face  to  resemble  that  of  an 
old  sow  at  the  time  she  is  weaning  her  pigs.  His  shirt- 
collar  is  pointed,  and  extends  up  to  his  ears;  in  fact, 
his  entire  body  seems  to  be  suspended  by  the  ears  from 
the  edges  of  his  collar.  From  one  point  of  view  he  has 
the  appearance  of  a  horse  with  a  blind-bridle  on.  He 
wears  a  glossy  black  bombazine  coat  and  pantaloons, 
without  a  vest,  though  he  says  he  has  one  with  him, 
and  intends  to  wear  it  as  soon  as  the  weather  is  a  little 
cooler.  He  says  he  is  a  man  that  always  dresses  ac- 
cording to  the  weather,  neither  smokes,  drinks,  nor 
chews  tobacco,  and  is  a  Church-member — he  did  not  say 
what  Church.  I  do  not  remember  whether  he  has  any 
thing  round  his  neck  or  not.  On  his  feet  he  wears  a 
pair  of  very  heavy  shoes.  He  will  not  talk  to  you  five 
minutes  before  he  will  tell  you  that  his  health  has  not 
been  good  for  some  time,  and  that  he  came  here  for  the 
benefit  of  the  bathing,  and  that  if  it  will  help  him  it  is 
quite  as  cheap,  or  cheaper  than  to  have  staid  at  home 
and  taken  medicine  from  the  doctors — though  he  is 
afraid  the  hotel-fare  here  will  not  be  good  for  him;  but 
he  thinks  they  have  what  he  needs,  if  he  could  get  it. 
You  need  not  be  surprised  if  old  Mr.  By  Degrees  and 
myself  should  get  up  an  anti-eating-by-the-bill-of-fare 
society;  for  we  do  not  know  the  various  dishes  by  their 
names,  and  are  afraid  to  send  for  any  thing  except 
roast  beef  and  Irish  potatoes,  lest  we  might  not  like  it 
when  it  comes ;  and  as  it  is  sometimes  difficult  to  induce 
a  servant  to  wait  on  you,  we  do  not  like  to  waste  time 
in  trying  experiments. 


A    LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  423 

But  I  have  digressed  far  away  from  the  bathing.  I 
told  you  that  he  had  waded  into  the  water  until  it 
reached  to  where  the  calves  of  his  legs  ought  to  have 
been,  and  was  wetting  the  top  of  his  head  to  prevent 
congestion.  I  urged  him  to  come  in  deeper,  but  for 
awhile  he  would  not — saying  that  he  would  take  it  by 
degrees;  that  his  health  had  been  bad,  and  he  thought 
it  dangerous  to  do  any  thing  too  suddenly;  that  he  was 
a  man  who  always  took  things  by  degrees.  I  asked 
him  what  kind  of  sickness  he  had.  He  replied  that 
some  of  the  doctors  said  it  was  his  stomach,  and  others 
were  sure  it  was  his  liver;  but  his  opinion  was  that  it 
was  not  much  else  than  weakness;  that  it  came  on  him 
by  degrees,  and  he  expected  that  it  would  go  off  by  de- 
grees. A  young  friend,  Mr.  A.,  became  interested  in 
his  movements,  and  tried  to  induce  him  to  venture  into 
deeper  water,  and  did  succeed  in  getting  him  in  to  the 
depth  of  his  knees;  but  when  he  saw  the  surf  coming, 
he  ran  for  the  shore  as  briskly  as  a  young  colt.  He  told 
me  a  short  while  ago  that  Mr.  A.  encouraged  him  very 
much,  and  that  he  thinks  he  will  go  in  deeper  next 
time;  that  he  has  had  ill  health,  and  must  take  the 
water  by  degrees.  He  wished  to  know  how  much  the 
barber  charges  for  shaving,  and  if  there  was  not  dan- 
ger of  catching  the  tetter-worm  by  shaving  with  the 
barber. 

But  I  have  not  told  you  how  I  found  out  that  he  was 
a  shoe-maker,  and  made  only  pegged  shoes.  "Well,  I 
will  come  to  it  in  a  short  while.  Mr.  By  Degrees,  when 
in  his  native  buff,  was  the  oddest-looking  animal  you 
ever  saw.  His  skin  was  not  a  good  fit  for  him,  and  his 
joints  were  the  largest  parts  of  him;  the  knee-joint, 
especially,  was  so  very  large  in  proportion  to  the  re- 
majnder  of  the  leg  that  I  thought  it  was  swollen,  and 


424  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

that  he  had  rheumatism;  and  I  asked  him  what  was 
the  matter  with  his  knees.  He  said,  "Nothing,  unless 
it  is  hammering  on  them  so  much,  making  boots  and 
shoes."  That  was  the  way  I  discovered  his  trade.  If 
you  avoid  alluding  to  his  illness,  he  will  talk  inces- 
santly about  his  business;  but  if  he  can  find  a  listener, 
he  will  talk  on  the  subject  of  his  maladies  until  the  can- 
dles burn  out,  if  it  is  night.  He  will  give  you  a  num- 
ber of  instances  in  which  he  and  his  old  lady  differed 
in  opinion;  but,  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  he  generally 
admits  that  she  was  right.  I  take  that  to  be  a  good 
sign.  You  will  never  fully  understand  him,  however, 
until  you  get  up  before  the  ladies  are  awake,  and  go 
bathing  with  him,  and  see  him  dip  up  the  water  in  his 
hand,  and  wet  the  top  of  his  head,  to  prevent  taking 
congestion. 

WE  have  been  out  sailing!  Col.  S.  labored  energet- 
ically yesterday  to  organize  the  party.  There  were 
ten  or  twelve  in  the  company — seven  ladies,  and  five 
or  six  gentlemen.  The  Colonel  and  I  wished  to  make 
the  young  ladies  seasick,  which  we  supposed  would  be 
an  easy  matter,  as  none  except  one  of  them  had  ever 
been  out  of  sight  of  land.  So,  immediately  after  break- 
fast, we  went  by  rail  to  the  inlet,  where  we  found  a 
number  of  small  boats,  or  yachts,  kept  for  hire  to  pleas- 
ure-parties. One  of  them  was  considerably  larger  than 
the  others;  but  in  appearance  it  was  as  old  as  Noah's 
Ark — the  paint  rubbed  off  its  sides,  the  rigging  all 
patched,  and  tied  up  with  strings,  like  an  Indian's  gun. 
Mr.  F.  (one  of  the  party)  was  for  taking  the  large  one, 
fearing  that  the  small  ones  were  not  sufficiently  capa- 
cious; yet  the  smallest  was,  I  should  think,  at  least  fif- 
teen tons  burden.  We  selected  a  most  beautiful  little 


A    LIVE    TENXESSEEAN    ABROAD.  425 

craft  —  new,  fresh,  and  neat — which,  with  her  clean 
deck,  white  paint,  and  swan-like  canvas,  looked  like  a 
hride,  and  seemed  to  be  as  innocent  and  docile  as  a 
Sunday-school  scholar.  We  were  soon  on  board;  the 
anchor  was  weighed,  the  sails  hoisted,  and  the  vessel 
stood  out  before  the  wind,  like  an  uncaged  bird.  The 
Colonel  intimated  to  the  master  of  the  craft  what  was 
wanted — the  roughest  possible  passage,  consistent  with 
safety.  The  day  was  as  fine  for  the  purpose  as  if  it 
had  been  made  to  order — clear  and  balmy,  with  a  stiff 
breeze  and  a  pretty  heavy  sea.  We  glided  down  the 
inlet,  and  were  soon  fairly  out  at  sea.  The  roughest 
water  that  could  be  found  was  on  the  inlet  bar,  and  to- 
ward this  the  master  bore  down,  and  laid  his  vessel 
across  the  sea.  The  lamb -like  thing  plunged  and 
bounded  with  might  and  main;  and~  all  the  while  we 
watched  the  effect  upon  the  ladies;  but  they  were  en- 
joying it  rapturously;  they  seemed  to  be  wild  with  joy 
and  merriment;  nor  was  there  any  apparent  sign  of 
seasickness.  It  was  evident  that  that  motion  had  failed. 
We  then  laid  her  quarter  to  the  sea,  which  gave  her  a 
kind  of  rolling,  chopping  motion;  this  was  not  very 
pleasant  to  any  of  us,  as  it  interfered  with  our  going 
about  on  deck.  The  effect  of  this  motion  was  simply  a 
slight  reduction  of  the  mirth.  We  thought  for  awhile 
that  it  promised  more;  but  at  length  it  proved  a  failure. 
"We  then  ran  the  yacht  as  much  between  the  seas  as  it 
was  safe  to  attempt,  taking  in  nearly  all  the  canvas, 
which  caused  her  to  roll  with  a  heavy,  sluggish  motion, 
but  to  no  avail.  We  then  held  a  council  of  war,  and 
the  next  expedient  was  tried.  A  rough  piece  of  water 
was  selected,  and  we  came  to  anchor,  depriving  the 
yacht  of  her  stiffness  and  steadiness  by  taking  in  all 
the  sails.  She  now  plunged  forward  and  backward, 


426  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

and  rolled  from  side  to  side  most  beautifully;  and  at 
last  this  motion  was  found  to  take  effect,  but,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  in  the  wrong  direction.  A  particular  friend  of 
the  Colonel's,  from  "York  State,"  as  it  is  called  here — 
n  tall,  genteel,  delicate-looking  gentleman,  who  had 
received  a  hint  from  the  Colonel,  and  came  on  the  ex- 
cursion mainly  to  have  some  sport  at  the  expense  of 
the  seasick  young  ladies — became  a  victim  to  the  mo- 
tion. I  happened  to  be  looking  at  him  when  he  felt 
the  first  premonitory  symptom.  He  stood  perfectly 
still — that  is,  as  still  as  the  vessel's  motion  would  allow; 
there  was  an  anxious  expression  about  his  face,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  looking  back,  like  a  horse  when  he  feels 
the  first  grab  of  the  bots,  and  appeared  like  a  man  list- 
ening intently  for  something.  I  was  greatly  in  hope 
the  young  ladies  would  not  observe  him;  but  it  was 
only  a  few  minutes  before  I  saw  one  of  them  looking  at 
him  attentively  for  a  moment  or  so;  she  then  gave  the 
young  lady  next  to  her  the  hint,  and  she,  too,  looked, 
and  soon  all  were  watching  him.  The  young  gentle- 
man, however,  did  not  appear  to  realize  the  existence 
of  outward  things,  till  at  last  one  of  them  sang  out, 
"You're  sick!  you're  sick!"  And  then  followed  that 
unkind,  unaccountable  laugh  which  well  persons  al- 
ways enjoy  over  those  who  are  seasick.  My  York 
friend  soon  took  a  seat  on  a  coil  of  rope  that  lay  on  the 
deck,  and,  leaning  against  the  mast,  gave  unmistakable 
evidence  of  increased  distress.  He  first  leaned  one 
way,  then  another,  and  at  last  stretched  hjmself  out 
at  full  length  on  the  deck.  He  turned  pale  round 
the  mouth,  his  eyes  closed,  and  while  thus  conquered 
and  prostrate,  the  cruel  laugh  was  kept  up.  I  am  not 
sure  that  the  Colonel  himself  did  not  now  begin  to 
feel  a  little  unpleasant.  The  master  of  the  craft  said 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  427 

it  was  of  no  use — that  we  could  not  make  the  ladies 
sick.  At  length  I  said  to  one  of  them,  just  for  spite, 
"You  are  getting  sick!"  at  which  she  sprang  up,  and, 
bounding  across  the  deck  with  a  merry  laugh,  replied, 
"Not  a  bit  of  it!  "  So  we  weighed  anchor  and  stood 
in  for  the  shore. 

Did  you  ever  study  character  at  the  dinner-table? 
There  are  a  great  variety  of  characters  here  in  the  din- 
ing-room at  the  dinner-hour.  For  instance,  here  comes 
an  old  gentleman  and  lady,  dressed  in  good  style,  who 
take  their  seats  as  if  they  were  used  to  it;  the  gentle- 
man takes  the  bill-of-fare,  puts  his  gold-framed  glasses 
to  his  eyes  and  looks  wondrous  wise,  exchanges  a  word 
with  his  wife,  and  then  says,  "Mock -turtle."  Next 
comes  a  young  married  couple,  no  doubt  a  little  em- 
barrassed, but  to  prove  to  everybody  that  they  are  not, 
like  a  boy  who  whistles  as  he  passes  a  grave-yard  at 
night,  they  must  converse  all  the  way  through  the 
dining-room,  and  the  young  wife  must  laugh  a  little  at 
what  her  husband  is  saying,  as  evidence,  that  they  are 
regardless  of  the  presence  of  others.  They  consult 
the  bill-of-fare  together,  and  say  something  to  the  serv- 
ant, who  starts  off,  goes  a  few  steps,  is  called  back,  and 
another  order  is  given;  the  gentleman  then  looks  at 
his  bride  with  a  knowing  glance,  and  she  laughs. 
Yonder  is  quite  a  party.  A  parley  is  held  with  the 
principal  steward,  he  runs  ahead  of  them  and  turns 
down  half  a  dozen  chairs  that  had  been  propped 
against  the  table.  A  general  conversation  is  set  up 
among  them,  jokes  are  played  off,  unfinished  confabs 
are  introduced;  but  all  the  while  the  ladies  of  the 
party  are  looking  in  every  direction  to  see  who  is  here 
and  who  is  there,  while  the  young  gentlemen  seem  to 
be  perfectly  satisfied  with  their  company.  Over  there 


428  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

two  gentlemen,  who  are  talking  together  with  seeming 
earnestness,  do  not  seem  to  care  much  about  the  bill- 
of-fare.     A  card  is  sent  off  to  the  chief  butler,  and  a 
bottle  of  wine,  or  something  stronger,  is  now  between 
them.     Stocks,  exchange,  and  commerce  generally,  are 
handled  as  small  matters,  while  the  quality  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  bottle  is  discussed  with  a  great  show  of 
familiarity  with  good    liquors.      Here   comes   a   man 
alone,  who  walks  straight  to  his  seat,  speaks  to  the 
servant  as  he  sits  down,  goes  to  work  in  earnest,  hur- 
ries through,   and   is  soon   away.     A  gentleman   has 
just  taken  his  seat  over  there  who  seems  to  know  no 
one.     He  wears  gold-framed  spectacles,  and  sports  a 
goatee,  and   a   thin   mustache  which  he    is  trying  to 
tease  into  the  shape  of  a  ram's  horn,  while  he  occa- 
sionally pulls  down  his  refractory  goatee.     He  unfolds 
his  napkin  with  great  care,  and  adjusts  himself  to  his 
work;  he  will  be  at  the  table  when  you  leave,  and  long 
after,  for  he  is  going  to  eat  "according  to  the  book." 
He  has  got  on  now  to  the  lobster,  and  is  preparing  to 
dress  it  himself,  for  which  purpose  an  extra  dish  is 
brought;  he  intends  to  show  everybody  that  he  is  not 
from  the  country,  but  the  city,  and  a  large  city  at  that. 
He  has  taken  the  fleshy  portion  of  the  lobster  from 
the  shell,  and  is  cutting  it  up  as  though  he  were  going 
to  make  hash  of  it.     Watch  him !      That  is  sweet-oil 
he  is  pouring  on  it,  next  he  adds  a  little  salt,  now  some 
vinegar,  next  different  kinds  of  sauces,  then  comes  the 
pepper,  followed  with  the  mustard,  after  which  all  is 
mixed  and  chopped  together.     Half  a  dozen  times  has 
the  servant  ran  off  to  get  some  condiment  for  him, 
until  he  is  surrounded  by  casters.     Now  he  tastes  it, 
holding  it  in  his  mouth  with  a  knowing  air,  but  sud- 
denly, and  with  great  haste,  adds  a  little  more  of  two 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  429 

or  three  ingredients,  and  then  tastes  again.  Now  it 
will  do!  He  calls  a  servant  and  sends  his  compliments 
to  a  lean,  narrow-faced,  sharp-nosed  woman  with  curls 
straying  all  about  her  face,  to  inquire  if  she  will  not 
have  some  lobster  dressed  after  the  style  in  which  it  is 
done  in  Paris  or  Boston,  and  she  accepts.  But  look  at 
that  gentleman  sitting  alone.  He  is  not  engaged,  as 
all  the  rest  arc,  in  eating.  What  is -the  matter?  He 
is  ashy-pale  and  red  by  turns;  leans  back  in  his  chair, 
and  tries  to  look  dignified  and  composed.  What  a  con- 
flict is  going  on  between  his  wounded  pride  and  his 
appetite!  Let  us  analyze  his  thoughts:  "Here  am  I, 
dressed  in  style,  my  hair  dyed,  my  whiskers  curled, 
a  diamond  ring  on  my  finger  and  a  diamond  pin  in  my 
bosom,  a  man  of  some  talent,  to  be  neglected  in  this 
way!  If  they  don't  do  better  I  will  leave  this  house! 
But  never  mind,  they  will  come  running  directly." 
Poor  fellow!  his  appetite  will  conquer  yet.  But  here 
comes  the  big  steward,  with  a  larger  apron  than  the 
waiters  have,  and  wearing  a  coat  to  distinguish  him 
from  the  common  herd  of  servants,  who  wear  only 
jackets.  Bowing  politely,  the  steward  says,  "Any 
thing  wanting,  sir?  Ordered  your  dinner,  sir?"  "Yes, 
about  one  hour  ago!"  He  is  about  to  say  something 
more,  but  the  steward  is  gone.  He  now  fairly  swells 
with  rage;  but  it  will  not  do  to  be  noisy,  because  that 
would  make  public  the  fact  that  he  has  been  neglected. 
The  servant  who  took  his  original  order  has  been  so 
much  occupied  in  serving  the  party  (who  bribed  him) 
that  he  has  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  has  to  go  back 
and  ask,  "  What  will  you  have,  sir?"  But  it  is  too  late 
now  to  begin  at  the  top  of  the  bill;  soup  and  fish 
depots  are  past,  and  he  is  now  at  the  beef  and  potato 
station.  Now  that  he  is  eating,  see  how  he  has  un- 


430        A  LIVE  TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD. 

buckled  the  muscles  of  bis  face;  he  begins  to  look  ami- 
able, and  is  breathing  deeply  and  easily.  What  a  won- 
derful effect  that  savory  beef  has  had  upon  him !  Pity 
he  had  not  imitated  the  man  opposite,  who  is  all  the 
while  knocking  with  the  handle  of  his  knife  upon  the 
table,  or  poking  his  fingers  at  the  servants  as  they  pass, 
like  a  man  trying  to  see  how  high  he  can  make  a  dog 
jump.  He  has  opened  a  regular  carrying-trade  be- 
tween his  appetite  and  the  kitchen,  and  is  taking  on 
freight  at  such  a  rate  that,  were  I  an  insurance  officer, 
I  should  not  like  to  take  a  risk  upon  his  hull. 

I  recollect  a  Frenchman  who  regularly  backed  down, 
and  would  not  move  one  inch  on  the  fish  course.  I 
suppose  he  was  fond  of  this  dish,  and  the  servant  had 
brought  him  some,  but  it  was  a  small  morsel,  not  more 
than  a  spoonful,  and  seemed  to  be  beaten  up  almost 
into  a  batter,  with  the  bones  peering  out  all-around  it. 
The  Frenchman  adjusted  his  spectacles  and  looked  at  it 
for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  the  most  magnificent  dis- 
gust, pushed  it  a  few  inches  from  him,  set  his  chair 
back,  and  looked  toward  the  ceiling.  A  moment  later, 
and  a  servant  asked,  "What  will  you  have,  sir?"  to 
which  he  replied,  slowly  and  emphatically,  "I — want — • 
some — fish!"  The  servant,  glancing  at  the  table,  saw 
that  he  had  fish  before  him,  and  left  him.  Quite  a 
number  of  times  other  servants  came  to  him  and  asked 
the  same  question,  and  received  the  same  answer.  This 
state  of  things  continued  until  dinner  was  half  over, 
by  which  period  he  had  fallen  behind  the  regular  time, 
and  was  switched  off.  At  length  one  of  the  proprie- 
tors of  the  house  came  to  him  and  said,  politely, 
"What's  wanting,  sir?  what's  wanting,  sir?  I  say, 
what's  wanting,  sir?"  The  Frenchman  replied,  "I 
have  told  already  what  wanting,  by  Gar,  eleven  time; 


A    LIVE    TEXNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  431 

I  now  tell  one  time  more:  I — want — some — fish!"  Tho 
servants  now  began  to  gather  around,  a  kind  of  coun- 
cil was  held  over  the  matter,  and  I  thought  I  heard 
one  of  them  say  that  the  fish  was  all  gone.  My  own 
dinner  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and  I  do  not  know 
whether  the  Frenchman  got  any  fish  or  not. 

THE  ladies  have  been  in  the  briny  deep  at  last,  but 
not  in  very  deep  after  all;  and  notwithstanding  you 
would  not  take  the  bath  yourself,  you  ought  to  have 
gone  down  and  taken  a  look  at  us  all  when  dressed  for 
the  occasion.  Handy  Andy's  account  of  Squire  Ka- 
gan's  sheep,  dressed  up  in  old  rags  to  protect  them 
from  the  winter's  cold,  after  an  unseasonable  shearing, 
could  not  have  presented  a  more  ludicrous  picture  than 
we  did. 

The  goods  of  which  the  bathing-suits  are  composed 
is  a  coarse,  strong,  woolen  fabric,  variously  colored  and 
striped,  so  as  to  accommodate  the  peculiar  fancy  of 
each  individual;  though  my  suit  had  been  wet  and 
dried  so  often  that  the  colors  had  all  run  together,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  the  original  design.  The 
wardrobe  of  the  ladies  was  of  the  Bloomer  style,  with 
close-fitting  basque  body  and  high  neck.  They  wear 
upon  their  heads  straw  hats  with  large  rims,  tied  down 
under  their  chins;  and  they  are  bare-footed.  The  gen- 
tlemen wear  pantaloons,  with  something  like  an  old- 
fashioned  bed-gown,  buttoned  up  in  front  quite  to  the 
chin,  or  tied  together  with  strings;  feet  and  ankles 
bare;  and  hats  similar  to  those  worn  by  the  ladies. 
From  the  row  of  little  huts  along  the  beach,  which  are 
appropriated  as  dressing-rooms,  to  the  water's  edge  is 
about  fifty  yards.  This  open  space  has  to  be  overcome, 
which  is  the  great  imaginary  trouble  of  the  ladies;  for, 


432  A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

where  there  are  thousands  of  visitors,  as  there  are  here, 
you  cannot  escape  observation.  "VVe  had  all  put  on  our 
bathing-suits  and  met  together  near  one  of  the  shan- 
ties, some  twenty  I  suppose,  in  all,  to  form  a  line  of 
march  for  the  water;  and  notwithstanding  it  was  some- 
what difficult  for  us  to  recognize  each  other  in  our  new 
clothes,  yet  it  was  discovered  that  one  of  the  ladies 
was  missing — Miss  A.  What  had  become  of  her  no 
one  could  tell;  the  ladies  said  she  had  passed  out  from 
the  dressing-saloon,  and  that  was  all  they  knew.  Col. 
A.  was  dispatched  in  search  of  her,  and  she  was  found 
by  discovering  her  feet.  The  door  of  the  saloon  opened 
on  the  outside;  she  said  that  when  she  got  out  she  felt 
so  funny  that  she  could  not  stand  it,  so  she  pulled  the 
door  around  and  got  behind  it,  and  there  she  was, 
standing  as  still  as  death;  but  her  feet  were  disclosed 
below  the  shutter,  and  she  was  captured  and  brought 
out,  and  joined  her  party.  Eveiy  thing  ought  to  suit 
the  purpose  for  which  it  is  intended,  and  nothing,  it 
appears  to  me,  could  be  devised  more  perfectly  adapted 
to  the  end  than  these  bathing-suits,  being  every  thing 
that  could  be  asked  for.  Each  lady  now  selects  some 
gentleman  who  is  to  take  care  of  her — a  father,  hus- 
band, brother,  or  some  well-known  and  confiding  friend, 
who  is  to  see  to  it  that  the  undertow,  as  it  is  called, 
shall  not  carry  them  beyond  soundings,  and  to  help 
them  to  ride  the  heavy  waves.  Now  we  arc  paired, 
and  off  for  the  surf.  It  was  amusing  to  observe  how 
low  the  ladies  tried  to  make  themselves  as  they  went 
limping  along  on  the  pebbles  with  their  bare  feet,  tot- 
tering from  side  to  side,  like  so  many  muscovy  ducks 
on  their  way  to  the  pond.  We  were  soon  launched, 
though,  and  riding  the  surf  beautifully;  but  when  I 
looked  and  saw  how  perfectly  reckless  of  danger  the 


A   LIVE    TEXXE.-SEEAN    ABROAD.  433 

Indies  appeared,  having  full  confidence  in  their  pro- 
tectors, and  how  industriously  the  gentlemen  were 
employed  in  preventing  any  accident  to  their  various 
charges,  I  could  not  but  think  of  a  negro  meeting, 
where  all  the  women  get  happy,  and  the  men  can  get 
no  good  of  the  meeting  in  consequence  of  having  to 
hold  the  women. 

I  have  noticed  when  out  at  sea  that  about  every  five 
minutes  there  comes  along  a  swell  that  seems  to  be  a 
master  spirit,  sometimes  several  feet  higher  than  the 
others,  as  though  the  great  heart  of  old  ocean  had 
made  a  violent  throb,  and  greatly  increased  the  circu- 
lation. That  was  particularly  the  case  to-day:  the  surf 
was  generally  fine,  but  occasionally  these  alps  of  ocean 
would  dawn  upon  us.  But  we  had  been  going  swim- 
mingly, till  at  length  our  paired-off  arrangement  was 
broken  up,  and  the  company  formed  what  they  called 
"dress  circle,"  all  taking  hands  like  dancers  in  the 
Grecian  chorus.  I  did  not  unite  in  this  circle,  but  waa 
riding  the  surf  alone,  having  gone  a  little  farther  out 
than  the  rest  of  the  party,  when  all  at  once  here  came 
one  of  these  mountain  swells.  I  mounted  it,  but  saw  that 
those  in  the  circle  had  not  observed  it  till  it  struck  and 
carried  them  hither  and  yonder,  their  hold  upon  each 
other  being  broken  by  the  force  of  the  wave,  and  they 
were  drifting  around  like  so  many  gourds.  I  made  to 
their  relief,  but  soon  the  most  of  them  recovered  their 
footing;  though  I  saw  one  who  seemed  to  be  in  trouble — 
Miss  E.,  a  tall  and  rather  delicate  lady;  she  was  bob- 
bing up  and  down,  with  nothing  but  the  back  of  her 
head  peering  out  of  the  water;  I  soon  reached  her, 
and  brought  her  to  the  top.  She  snorted  like  a  baby- 
porpoise,  swallowed  a  little  salt  water,  spit  the  rest  out, 
and  just  as  soon  as  she  could  speak,  paid  to  me — and 
10 


434  A    LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

no  doubt  meant  all  she  said — "Well,  I  don't  see  any 
fun  in  this!  Uncle  Chip,  don't  let  it  do  that  again!" 
You  may  rest  assured  there  was  no  want  of  looking 
out  for  the  master  swells  after  that.  So  far  I  had  es- 
caped elegantly,  and  was  just  beginning  to  think  that 
I  should  win  the  reputation  of  a  good  bather;  but  it 
always  happens  to  me  that  just  as  I  think  I  am  about 
to  finish  up  something  smart,  my  hopes  are  struck 
down,  and  I  am  brought  back  to  my  proper  level;  and 
it  is  wonderful  that  I  will  do  so,  for  I  had  faithful 
warning  on  the  subject  when  quite  a  boy,  which  will 
never  be  forgotten:  it  was  the  day  I  put  on  the  first 
pair  of  pantaloons  with  pockets  in  them  that  I  ever 
had.  I  recollect  it  was  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  and 
when  I  put  on  my  new  pantaloons,  the  old  shoes  which 
I  had  worn  through  the  winter  looked  a  little  too  rough, 
and  I  took  them  off,  and  felt  so  light  and  supple  that  I 
told  the  other  children  I  could  fly,  but  they  disputed 
it;  so  I  mounted  an  old  peach -scaffold  which  was  in 
the  corner  of  the  yard,  in  order  to  get  a  good  start, 
but  soon  found  myself  flat  on  the  ground,  considerably 
bruised,  so  that  I  have  never  tried  to  fly  since.  But 
back  to  my  difficulty:  When  I  went  to  get  a  bathing- 
suit  I  could  not  find  a  hat  large  enough,  being  troubled 
with  the  big-head,  and  the  sun  was  too  powerful  to 
think  of  going  with  my  head  uncovered;  so  I  con- 
cluded that  I  would  wear  that  new  straw  hat  of  mine, 
with  a  determination  not  to  let  my  head  get  wet;  and 
to  keep  it  from  being  blown  off,  I  brought  down  the 
ribbon  and  tied  it  fast  in  the  button-hole  of  my  bed- 
gown, and  was  getting  on  finely.  But,  as  I  was  telling 
you,  I  must  do  something  smart;  so  I  went  out  farther 
than  anybody  else,  in  order  to  make  character  as  a 
bather;  and  at  this  critical  point  in  my  desire  for  rep- 


A  LIVE  TENNESSEEAN  ABROAD.         435 

utation,  along  came  one  of  those  tremendous  swells, 
when  I  happened  to  be  attending  to  something  land- 
ward, and,  before  I  thought  of  it,  buried  me  about  three 
feet  deep,  took  my  new  hat  from  me  by  violence — tore 
it  off  my  head,  broke  the  ribbon,  and  away  it  went. 
When  I  recovered  myself  and  looked  for  my  hat,  don't 
you  think,  the  ladies  whom  I  had  helped  so  much  were 
laughing  like  to  split  their  sides,  and  saying,  "Yon- 
der goes  your  hat!"  I  overtook  it  at  last,  and  put  it 
out  on  the  sand  to  dry;  but  it  is  so  saturated  with  salt 
that  I  shall  have  to  be  careful  to  keep  it  out  of  the  way 
of  the  cows.  Soon  after  this  I  told  the  party  that  we 
had  been  in  the  water  long  enough.  How  much  my 
ducking  had  to  do  in  bringing  me  to  this  conclusion, 
I  shall  not  say. 

This  bathing  is  a  great  affair;  and  I  am  clearly  of 
the  opinion  that  persons  affected  with  nervous  derange- 
ment, or  any  general  prostration  of  vital  powers,  will 
find  sea-bathing  of  more  service  than  other  watering- 
places.  The  temperature  of  the  sea  at  this  point  is 
about  seventy  degrees,  and  the  slight  shock  that  you  feel 
when  first  going  in  soon  passes  away,  and  the  bathing 
is  really  delightful;  the  beach,  or  bottom,  is  fine,  firm 
sand,  and  is  as  pleasant  to  the  feet  as  could  be  asked 
for;  and  there  is  not  that  danger  which  some  persons 
suppose;  if  a  man  at  a  reasonable  distance  out  should 
become  perfectly  helpless,  I  think  the  surf  would 
wash  him  up  high  and  dry  on  the  beach.  Ladies  fre- 
quently go  in  alone.  There  was  a  great  number  of 
persons  bathing  when  we  were  in,  and  among  them  I 
saw  one  lady  who  was  alone,  and  was  quite  a  bold 
bather.  But  the  time  came  at  last  to  go  out,  and  out 
we  went. 

Here  I  am  with  anotherdifficulty :  my  suit  of  clothes 


436  A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

was  rather  a  close  fit  when  dry,  and  when  they  got 
wet,  the  water  acting  as  an  astringent,  they  became  an 
exceedingly  neat  fit;  and  but  for  the  timely  aid  of  Col. 
A.,  I  should  have  had  to  wear  them  off  with  me,  or 
come  out  of  them  locust-fashion.  The  only  complaint 
now  among  the  ladies  is  the  condition  of  their  hair, 
their  heads  having  become  perfectly  saturated  with 
the  salt-water.  The  next  thing  will  be  a  heavy  bill 
from  the  hair-dresser. 

There  is  not  much  interest  taken  in  driving  here. 
A  great  many  people  enjoy  it;  but  they  do  not  talk  or 
brag  about  it.  The  reason  of  this  is  that  it  is  cheap; 
you  can  ride  in  a  car,  omnibus,  or  hack  at  a  low  price, 
because  the  New  Jersey  people  ride  only  in  their  Jer- 
sey-wagons. I  like  both  the  people  and  their  wagons; 
the  former  are  sensible,  and  the  latter  comfortable;  but 
as  the  equipage  costs  no  more  than  two  hundred  dol- 
lars, the  elite  are  indifferent  whether  they  ride  in  a  car, 
omnibus,  or  wagon,  as  all  are  the  same  price.  I  cannot 
imagine  what  pride  and  fashion  can  do  to  abolish  this 
democratic  institution;  something  must  certainly  be 
done,  for  all  walk  and  ride  in  the  same  style,  and  there 
is  no  apparent  distinction  between  the  great  and  the 
little  people. 

My  old  friend  By  Degrees  has  been  out  riding.  He 
has  visited  the  light-house,  and  says  that  he  would  like 
to  go  up  to  the  lantern;  but  his  health  has  been  so  bad, 
and  he  is  so  very  weak,  that  he  thinks  he  could  not  get 
up  unless  he  were  to  take  it  by  degrees. 

THE  angler,  you  must  understand,  is  a  very  different 
character  from  the  fisherman.  I  claim  no  particular 
fellowship  for  fishermen;  with  all  their  seineing,  and 
netting,  and  trapping  I  have  nothing  to  do.  The 


A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  437 

method  of  fishing  with  hook  and  line  practiced  at  this 
place  was  new  to  me.  and  it  was  with  no  little  fear  that 
I  pitted  myself  against  those  Philadelphia  and  New 
Jersey  gentlemen,  who  were  at  home  in  the  art. 

Our  party  consisted  of  eight  persons  besides  the 
boatmen.  There  was  one  of  the  gentlemen  whom  I 
considered  more  formidable  than  all  the  others — a  Mr. 
J.  I  had  often  heard  of  him  before  I  saw  him;  when- 
ever fishing  was  the  subject  of  conversation,  some  one 
was  sui%e  to  say,  "You  ought  to  get  Mr.  J.  to  go  with 
you;  he  is  the  greatest  fisherman  in  these  parts."  Some 
time  afterward  I  was  introduced  to  him,  and  we  were 
soon  intimate  friends;  we  flowed  together  like  kindred 
spirits.  He  was,  I  should  judge,  fully  sixty  years  old, 
rather  low  in  stature,  a  little  inclined  to  corpulency, 
very  intelligent  and  communicative,  full  of  life  and 
good  feeling,  and  ready  for  the  excursion.  Every  word 
of  information  that  I  was  able  to  obtain  from  him  has 
been  treasured  up;  the  kind  of  fish,  the  tackle,  the  bait, 
were  all  discussed,  until  I  thought  I  should  very  soon 
be  proficient  enough  to  take  at  least  one  degree. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  find  a  reliable  man 
who  had  a  boat — there  are  tricks  in  all  trades.  There 
are  a  number  of  persons  here  who  have  fishing-boats, 
but  who  know  nothing  about  fishing — people  who  come 
here  merely  for  the  bathing -season.  If  you  should 
happen  to  have  one  of  these  as  your  boatman,  probably 
you  will  not  get  even  a  nibble.  They  do  not  know 
where  to  take  you,  and  if  they  did,  they  have  a  strong 
temptation  not  to  go  where  you  can  catch  fish,  because 
you  engaged  to  pay  them  a  certain  sum  for  the  trip, 
and  the  sooner  you  lose  patience  and  wish  to  return, 
the  better  it  is  for  them.  But  Mr.  J.  knew  the  men  and 
their  tricks,  and  was  therefore  able  to  secure  the  scrv- 


438  A    LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

ices  of  one  upon  whom  he  could  rely,  who  himself  had 
experience  as  a  fisherman,  and  would  take  pleasure  in 
promoting  our  success  in  every  way. 

There  are  some  facts  with  regard  to  the  bait  which 
you  ought  to  know,  if  you  should  ever  be  tempted  to 
try  your  luck.  There  are  three  kinds  of  bait  used  hero 
— soft  crabs,  hard  crabs,  and  clams.  If  you  bait  with 
soft  crabs,  you  will  catch  fish  pretty  fast;  if  with  hard 
crabs,  you  may  catch  one  occasionally;  but  if  you  put 
on  clam-bait  I  will  not  promise  that  you  will  get  even 
a  good  nibble.  The  best  bait,  like  every  thing  else  that 
is  good,  is  not  easily  found;  the  second-rate  article  is  a 
little  more  plentiful ;  and  the  worst  may  be  had  in  un- 
limited quantities.  You  may  write  it  down  in  your 
book  that  the  good  things  of  this  life  are  hard  to  get, 
whatever  they  may  be,  while  the  bad  things  come  of 
themselves. 

Mr.  J.  having  indoctrinated  me  into  the  secret  con- 
cerning the  bait,  when  we  reached  the  inlet,  and  the 
owners  of  boats  came  around  us  for  a  job,  one  of  them 
bringing  with  him  a  large  soft  crab,  thinking  that  he 
would  impress  the  party  with  a  good  opinion  by  his 
bait,  I  asked  him  what  he  would  take  for  his  crab  (ho 
had  just  said  he  could  get  plenty  like  it),  and  he  said, 
"Half  a  dollar."  "Here  it  is,"  said  I,  putting  the 
money  in  his  hand,  and  taking  the  crab.  Mr.  J.  offered 
him  half  a  dollar  for  another  like  it,  but  he  had  no 
more.  Our  boatman  had  sent  his  son  to  catch  bait,  and 
to  meet  us  at  a  certain  point  on  the  way,  though  we 
had  plenty  of  clams  and  a  few  hard  crabs.  We  were 
soon  on  board  a  neat  little  fishing-smack,  and  standing 
out  for  the  inlet.  We  began  preparations  by  examin- 
ing the  tackle.  A  number  of  lines  were  furnished  us 
by  the  owner  of  the  boat.  These  were  made  of  cotton- 


A    LIVE    TENNESSEEAX    ABROAD.  439 

twine,  about  forty  feet  long,  Avith  about  four  ounces  of 
lead  at  the  lower  end,  and  with  three  hooks  attached 
by  trotters  two  feet  long,  made  of  smaller  twine  than 
that  of  the  main  line.  The  lowest  hook  was  two  feet 
from  the  lead,  and  the  two  others  one  and  two  feet 
above.  The  hooks  were  the  old-fashioned  twisted,  flat- 
headed  kind,  and  rather  dull.  I  thought  the  whole  ap- 
paratus was  cumbrous  and  unangler-like.  Fortunately 
for  me,  Mr.  E.,  of  Philadelphia,  who  had  been  fishing 
here  for  some  time,  gave  me  his  fish-basket  when  he 
left  for  home;  he  was  a  disciple  of  Izaak  Walton,  and 
had  left  in  it  all  that  was  necessary  for  fly-fishing.  So 
I  rigged  an  establishment  for  myself,  putting  on  the 
snood  and  Limerick  hook,  with  a  small  sea-grass  main 
line,  and  a  lead  just  sufficient  to  sink  it. 

The  fishing-ground  was  reached  at  length,  and  every 
man  was  in  as  great  a  hurry  to  get  his  hook  into  the 
water  as  if  he  thought  all  the  fish  would  leave  for  parts 
unknown  unless  he  put  his  bait  in  their  mouths  in  one 
mimite.  It  was  not  long  before  we  began  to  haul  them 
up.  But  let  me  tell  you  that  if  you  do  not  tie  on  your 
hat,  you  will  lose  it,  as  there  is  nearly  always  a  strong 
wind.  You  need  not  take  an  umbrella,  for  you  cannot 
hold  it  and  fish ;  and  however  hot  the  sunshine  maybe, 
you  must  endure  it.  The  line  is  held  in  the  hand,  and 
the  lead  is  dropped  over  the  side  till  it  touches  the  bot- 
tom; it  is  then  raised  a  few  inches,  held  very  still,  and 
you  wait  for  a  bite.  The  kind  of  fish  taken  were  sea- 
bass,,  sea-trout,  black-fish,  weak-fish,  and  flounders — 
none  weighing  more  than  three  pounds.  I  soon  found 
my  friend  J.  in  trouble;  he  was  catching  nothing.  I 
insisted  on  his  trying  my  soft  crab;  but  even  then  he 
could  not  induce  the  fish  to  bite.  He  first  found  fault 
with  the  place;  but  the  rest  of  us  were  catching  at  such 


440  A    LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD. 

u  rate  that  this  excuse  was  not  listened  to.  He  then 
laid  the  blame  on  his  hook;  but  when  I  modestly  told 
him  that  I  did  not  think  the  inferioritj7  of  his  hook 
prevented  the  fish  from  biting,  he  gave  that  up.  He 
then  thought  he  was  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  boat, 
and  made  a  change;  but  still  the  fish  would  not  bite. 
This  was  dreadful  on  Mr.  J. ;  for  he  was  a  master  of  the 
art,  and  to  allow  tyros  to  beat  him  was  almost  unen- 
durable. He  complained  of  the  size  of  his  line.  I  said 
there  might  be  something  in  that;  but  others  were  tak- 
ing fish  with  lines  of  the  size.  I  knew,  or  thought  I 
knew,  why  he  had  no  success;  but  I  would  not  have 
dared  to  tell  him,  even  if  I  had  been  inclined  to  do  so. 
He  was  not  the  man  to  receive  instruction ;  it  was  his 
province  to  impart  it  to  those  who  did  not  understand 
the  art.  But  I  was  not  then  disposed  to  tell  him  so; 
for  I  was  greatly  elated  at  having  succeeded  while  he 
failed.  The  cause  of  his  failure  was  that  there  were 
great  quantities  of  sea -weed  on  the  surface  of  the 
water  and  on  the  bottom.  Mr.  J.'s  lead  was  a  heavjT 
one,  and  his  trotters  were  so  long  that  all  three  of  his 
hooks  must  have  been  on  or  near  the  bottom;  and  con- 
sequently his  bait  sank  down  among  the  moss,  so  that 
the  fish  could  not  find  it.  The  breakfast  that  he  had 
provided  for  the  fish  was  all  under  cover-dishes.  I  was 
confirmed  in  this  opinion  by  seeing  that  my  lowest 
hook  caught  nothing,  and  that  when  he  drew  up  his 
line  his  hooks  were  uniformly  covered  Avith  moss;  and 
I  was  astonished  that  he  did  not  discover  the  cause  of 
his  want  of  success.  He  was  lucky,  however,  in  catch- 
ing sea-spiders.  Did  you  ever  see  one?  They  are  the 
most  detestable  creatures  I  have  ever  beheld.  They 
are  called  spiders  because  of  their  resemblance  to  the 
common  spider,  and  belong  to  a  class  of  shell-fish  — 


A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  441 

though  I  should  think  that  all  other  shell-fish  would 
be  ashamed  to  claim  kinship  with  them.  They  are 
about  as  large  as  a  man's  fist,  and  the  body  appears  to 
be  made  of  small  fragments  of  rotten,  shelly  limestone, 
fastened  together  with  coarse  cement,  and  the  joints 
left  rough  and  unvarnished.  They  have  been  neither 
chiseled,  plastered,  nor  polished,  and  remain  in  a  rustic, 
unfinished  condition.  Their  numerous  legs  are  of  un- 
equal lengths,  some  with  and  some  without  claws,  half 
of  them  apparently  broken  off — lost  in  battle,  I  sup- 
pose— and  resemble  pieces  of  old,  rusty,  moldy  sticks, 
attached  to  the  body  by  the  most  awkward,  bungling 
hinges  imaginable.  The  boatman  said  they  were  'tar- 
nally  fighting.  Rarely  did  Mr.  J.  take  up  his  hook  with- 
out having  some  of  these  spiders  hanging  to  it — often 
two  or  three  at  the  same  bait.  They  were  so  vora- 
cious that  the  change  of  element  did  not  affect  them 
sufficiently  to  make  them  drop  off.  There  they  re- 
mained, one  on  each  side,  with  their  rugged  legs  mixed 
up,  staring  into  each  other's  faces,  and  both  sucking  at 
the  bait  with  all  their  might,  as  though  it  were  some 
dainty  morsel  which  they  had  no  hope  of  ever  tasting 
again.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  with  Avhat  vehement 
energy  Mr.  J.  dispatched  them.  Not  a  word  would  he 
titter,  but  with  a  significant  grunt,  and  a  rapid  swing 
of  his  line,  would  dash  them  against  the  side  of  the 
boat,  scattering  their  fragmentary  legs  in  every  direc- 
tion ;  and  I  observed  that  after  one  of  them  had  lost 
three  or  four  legs,  he  would  seem  suddenly  to  become 
aware  of  impending  danger,  and,  as  though  he  were  in 
haste  to  return  to  his  native  element,  relaxing  his  grip, 
would  quickly  disappear  in  the  water.  After  a  careful 
examination  of  these  marine  creatures,  I  must  acknowl- 
edge that  I  could  not  admire  them. 
19* 


442  A  LIVE   TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

During  five  hours'  fishing  wo  caught  about  seventy- 
one  fish,  and  of  these  twenty-six  were  mine.  For  the 
benefit  of  the  genuine  angler,  I  will  say  that  this  kind 
of  fishing  cannot  be  compared  with  that  which  he  may 
enjoy  upon  a  Western  stream,  with  a  bamboo  rod,  a 
Hartford  reel,  a  silk-plat  line,  a,  salmon  snood,  a  Lim- 
erick hook,  and  where  he  can  capture  a  ten-pound  jack- 
fish.  These  sea-fish  have  no  pluck;  they  do  not  pull 
vigorously,  and  the  weight  of  the  lead  and  depth  of 
water  are  so  great  that  you  can  hardly  tell  that  you  have 
a  fish  until  it  is  almost  out  of  the  water.  Then,  you 
have  neither  clicking  reel  nor  bending  pole;  in  fact, 
the  whole  poetry  of  the  art  is  lost.  Give  me  a  clean, 
shady  bank,  a  running  stream,  and  an  elastic  rod! 

WHAT  a  beautiful  day  this  has  been,  and  how  singu- 
larly I  have  spent  it!  The  fatigue  of  fishing  yesterday 
made  me  feel  somewhat  sore,  and  I  had  no  inclination 
to  either  ride  or  walk;  so  I  decided  that  I  would  join 
the  Old  Fogy  Society  on  trial,  if  they  would  take  me 
in.  After  breakfast  I  went  out  under  the  trees,  and 
got  into  the  crowd  of  long-jackets,  spectacles,  walk- 
ing-canes, and  any  number  of  newspapers.  Being  a 
good  listener,  I  constituted  an  audience  for  more  than 
a  dozen  of  them.  The  greatest  difficulty  in  sustaining 
conversation  is  not  in  inducing  people  to  talk,  but  in 
prevailing  upon  them  to  listen.  Did  you  ever  observe 
what  a  propensity  to  talk  old  people  have?  If  a  man 
should  live  to  be  eighty  years  old,  you  may  safely  di- 
vide his  life  into  sections  in  the  following  manner: 
Until  he  is  twenty  years  old  his  time  is  spent  mainly 
in  feeling;  he  has  some  thoughts,  but  they  are  infre- 
quent and  inconsequent.  From  twenty  to  forty  he  is 
an  operative;  he  is  at  work,  making  money,  character, 


A   LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  443 

or  fame,  or  seeking  pleasure.  From  forty  to  sixty  ho 
devotes  his  energy  to  the  erection  of  a  monument;  if 
he  is  a  farmer  or  mechanic,  he  will  build  a  house;  if  he 
is  a  professional  man,  he  will  write  a  book — he  must 
do  something  to  perpetuate  his  name  after  he  ?s  gone. 
After  he  passes  sixty  his  sole  occupation  is  talking;  the 
garrulous  old  man,  therefore,  is  passing  through  the 
final  stage  of  his  life.  Being  the  youngest  person  in 
the  crowd,  I  had  to  do  a  large  share  of  listening,  and 
to  appear  sufficiently  grateful  for  the  information  that 
I  was  receiving,  and  at  intervals  to  express  my  sur- 
prise at  the  great  wisdom  of  the  speaker  or  talker,  by 
exclaiming,  "Is  it  possible?"  "To  be  sure!" 

The  subjects  of  conversation  were  various;  and  it  is 
due  to  the  old  gentlemen  that  I  should  say  that  they 
seem  to  have  more  than  an  ordinary  share  of  intelli- 
gence. It  is  the  general  opinion  among  them  that 
times  are  getting  very  much  out  of  joint,  and  that  there 
are  serious  evils  ahead*  that  the  tires  on  the  wheels  of 
time  are  getting  loose,  and  that  the  world  will  break 
down  before  it  goes  much  farther.  The  main  difficulty 
is  found  in  the  manner  in  which  the  young  folks  are 
brought  up — too  high  notions;  too  extravagant,  alto- 
gether; cannot  stand  it!  Now,  let  me  say  to  you  that 
while  I  believe  many  of  the  fears  of  these  sage  philos- 
ophers are,  in  my  opinion,  groundless,  there  are  some 
parts  of  the  machinery  of  society  really  out  of  gear. 
We  can  see  the  effect  more  clearly  than  we  can  under- 
stand the  cause. 

THE  world  is  continually  striving  to  achieve  some- 
thing new.  What  a  blessing  it  is,  therefore,  that  old 
things  can  wear  out,  and  give  place  to  new !  For  if  the 
old  could  not  pass  away — and  our  desire  for  new  ob- 


444  A    LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

jects  must  bo  gratified — the  world  would  soon  be  too 
full  of  various  things;  and  short-lived  as  arc  the  things 
of  this  life,  many  of  them  last  too  long  for  us.  I  was 
forcibly  reminded  of  this  fact  while  walking  through 
the  streets  of  this  great  city;  for  New  York  is  a  great 
city  for  any  country.  In  almost  every  direction  they 
arc  pulling  down  the  old  houses  and  building  new  ones. 
It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  get  up  a 
new-fashion-making  establishment,  and  sell  new  fash- 
ions as  cakes  and  other  commodities  are  sold,  and  fur- 
nish models,  from  the  largest  ship-of-the-line  down  to 
the  finest  sewing-needle.  Do  you  not  think  such  an 
establishment  would  be  profitable?  Nature  arranges 
this  matter  most  admirably — the  old  crop  dies  before 
the  new  one  springs  up.  Behold  the  grass,  leaves,  and 
flowers,  how  faithfully  they  obey  this  law!  If  those 
who  are  building  could  only  see  what  is  to  become  of 
the  structures  which  they  are  rearing  up,  do  you  not 
think  that  the  pleasure  of  building  would  be  greatly 
curtailed?  The  builders  of  these  old  houses  which  are 
now  disappearing  intended  them  to  stand  forever;  and 
the  original  owners  fretted  and  fumed  when  any  part 
of  the  material  was  thought  to  be  defective.  We  drive 
nails,  and  clinch  them,  and  say  within  ourselves,  "  There 
yon  shall  stay  forever!"  but  the  next  generation  will 
pull  them  out,  if  they  must  split  the  boards  to  do  so. 

I  have  just  been  looking  at  the  new  styles.  The 
merchants  who  have  come  from  different  parts  of  the 
country  to  buy  goods  are  continually  talking  about  the 
novelties.  "Not  so  pretty,"  some  say,  "as  those  of  last 
year;  no  matter,  pretty  or  not  pretty,  the  new  style  is 
the  thing  which  is  wanted;  it  is  useless  to  buy  the  old 
at  any  price." 

In  architecture  there  are  new  inventions  for  lighting, 


A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN   ABROAD.  445 

warming,  and  ventilating.  People  will  not  live  in  the 
old-fashioned  houses;  they  are  astonished  that  they 
were  brought  up  in  the  kind  of  houses  inhabited  by 
their  fathers — full  of  deadly  malaria,  and  no  way  to  get 
rid  of  it.  A  new  cabin  for  a  boat  or  other  vessel  has 
been  invented,  which  will  insure  the  lives  of  the  pas- 
sengers. The  inventor  is  going  to  make  the  cabin  a 
vessel  of  itself,  so  that  when  the  ship  gets  into  distress 
they  will  all  get  into  this  cabin,  and  as  the  vessel  goes 
down  they  will  unship  from  her,  put  the  cabin's  auger 
to  work,  and  all  will  be  safe.  When  I  asked  him  what 
was  to  become  of  them  if  the  cabin  was  to  get  into 
trouble  before  they  made  the  land,  he  replied,  "Ah! 
that  is  running  difficulties  through  a  second  edition 
before  getting  through  with  the  first."  Another  man 
had  a  new  style  of  carriage,  so  arranged  that  if  the 
horses  were  to  run,  the  driver,  by  touching  a  spring, 
could  turn  them  loose  and  let  them  go.  "And  what 
would  become  of  the  carriage,"  said  I,  "  if  it  was  turned 
loose  on  the  side  of  a  hill?"  "I  guess,"  said  he,  "that 
you  would  have  to  turn  them  loose  on  level  ground." 

I  really  think  that  there  is  a  fearful  mixture  in 
this  city.  Just  reflect  that  within  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  of  this  proud  hotel,  baptized  by  the  name 
of  a  saint,  you  fall  into  the  Five  Points,  and  within 
three  hundred  feet  in  the  opposite  direction  another 
most  fearful  sink  of  iniquity!  so  that  the  angels  of 
God  who  hover  around  the  virtuous  and  the  good  who 
stop  at  this  magnificent  establishment,  and  the  fiends 
of  darkness  who  keep  vigil  at  these  sinks  of  pollution, 
are  nightly  within  sight  of  each  other's  camp-fires. 

I  would  advise  those  who  wish  to  be  impressed  alone 
with  the  beauty,  wealth,  and  grandeur  of  this  city  to 
confine  their  walks  mainly  to  Broadway  and  the  Avc- 


446  A   LIVE   TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD. 

nues,  for  on  these  crooked,  narrow  streets  there  is 
little  else  to  be  met  with  in  many  portions  but  wretch- 
edness and  misery.  There  are  thousands  here  who  are 
within  a  single  step  of  utter  destitution.  You  have  no 
doubt  noticed  the  great  number  of  methods  adopted 
to  make  a  shilling — one  has  a  little  table  with  a  dozen 
apples;  another  has  a  basket  containing  a  few  oranges, 
some  with  gubers — pea-nuts,  as  they  call  them ;  another 
popped  corn;  quite  a  number  are  vending  newspapers, 
others  with  matches,  and  some  with  tooth-picks;  and 
there  goes  an  old  woman  with  a  little  dirty  sack  and  a 
stick:  she  is  fishing  up  old  rags  and  waste  paper  from 
the  gutters,  and  I  suppose  a  day  of  faithful  labor  does 
not  result  in  five  cents.  So  that  the  situation  of  one 
hundred  thousand  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  is 
such  that  one  single  week's  sickness  of  the  eftective 
laborer  of  the  family  would  bring  the  whole  household 
upon  the  charitable  institutions  of  the  corporation. 
The  city  is  too  large — too  many  people;  two  hundred 
thousand  of  them  ought  to  go  to  some  new  country 
and  dig  in  the  ground,  and  grow  themselves  something 
to  eat.  It  would  be  infinitely  better  for  them,  and 
greatly  to  the  advantage  of  those  they  would  leave  be- 
hind. There  ought  to  be  no  want  in  a  country  like 
ours.  Let  New  York  be  what  it  may  in  other  respects, 
it  can  boast  of  two  things:  it  has,  I  should  judge,  the 
finest  street  in  the  world.  Broadway — every  thing 
considered — has  not  its  equal  anywhere.  In  the  next 
place,  it  is  ahead  of  any  place  with  which  I  am  ac- 
quainted for  omnibuses,  though  they  do  not  crowd 
Broadway  now  as  they  used  to  do  before  horse-cars 
were  instituted. 

Some  years  ago  I  had  been  spending  some  time  at  the 
Irving  House,  and  the  omnibuses  were  crowding  the 


A  LIVE    TENNESSEEAN    ABROAD.  447 

streets  from  day  to  day,  and  from  morning  to  night, 
till  at  length  one  evening,  between  sunset  and  dark, 
I  concluded  to  get  into  one  and  see  where  it  would  go 
to;  so  I  stepped  to  the  door,  made  a  sign  to  the  driver, 
and  in  I  went.  We  struggled  up  Broadway  to  Canal 
street;  there  we  turned  toward  the  North  River  until 
we  came  to  Greenwich  street,  and  then  up  that  to — I 
know  not  where.  On  and  on  we  went;  sometimes  we 
were  pretty  well  filled  up,  and  again  almost  empty, 
till  at  last  I  was  like  the  Dutchman's  bear,  "in  a  gage 
mit  mineself."  At  length  the  lamp-posts  gave  out, 
and  all  was  dark,  and  from  the  muddy  condition  of  the 
streets  I  found  that  we  were  beyond  all  pavements. 
Finally,  the  seemingly  tired  concern  came  to  a  dead 
stand-still.  I  determined  to  wait  and  see  what  was  go- 
ing to  happen.  At  last  the  driver  put  his  mouth  to  the 
hole  through  which  they  receive  fare,  and  asked,  "Mis- 
ter, where  do  you  wish  to  go?"  "Nowhere  in  particu- 
lar, only  that  I  want  to  go  wherever  this  omnibus  goes; 
I  wish  to  see  one  of  these  things  to  its  hive;  I  wish  to 
know  where  they  live."  ""Well,"  said  the  driver,  "I 
have  got  to  my  hive,  for  this  is  my  stable."  So  I  paid 
six  cents,  inquired  when  he  would  start  back,  and  at 
about  nine  o'clock  came  again  to  my  hotel,  having 
traveled  fourteen  miles  for  twelve  cents. 


LETTERS. 


,    COUNTRY-MEETING  EXPERIENCES. 

I  DO  not  live  precisely  in  town,  but  so  close  that  I  have 
learned  a  good  many  of  the  town-people's  ways, 
and  you  know  there  is  a  great  difference  between  town 
and  country  folks.  Well,  hearing  of  a  meeting  away 
out  in  the  middle  of  the  country,  I  thought  I  would  go 
and  see  how  they  carried  on ;  so  I  took  my  satchel — 
now,  there  is  a  great  difference  between  a  satchel  and 
a  pair  of  saddlebags:  a  satchel  is  made  nearly  square, 
out  of  leather,  and  some  satchels  have  locks  attached, 
and  you  can  open  and  shut  them  like  a  muscle-shell. 
As  I  was  going  to  start  on  the  cars,  and  as  saddlebags 
do  n't  suit  town-people  who  are  going  to  take  that  kind 
of  conveyance,  I  took  my  satchel,  put  all  my  things 
into  it,  and  away  I  went.  I  did  not  know  exactly 
where  the  meeting  was  going  to  be  held,  but  had  the 
name  of  the  meeting-house,  and  thought  I  should  find 
somebody  on  the  way  who  could  tell  me  all  about  it; 
so  when  the  train  started  I  looked  through  the  car  for 
some  person  that  I  knew,  and  saw  a  Mr.  H.  I  inquired 
of  him,  but  he  had  never  heard  of  the  place  before. 
At  length  I  asked  the  conductor  if  he  knew  where  the 
meeting-house  was;  he  said  he  did  not  know  precisely 
where  it  was,  but  knew  the  neighborhood.  Well,  I 
thought,  if  I  can  get  into  the  neighborhood,  I  shall  find 
(448) 


COUNTRY-MEETING    EXPERIENCES.  449 

some  one  who  can  inform  me  where  it  is;  and  so  re- 
quested the  conductor  to  put  me  off  at  the  point  near- 
est my  place  of  destination.  He  said  there  was  no 
station  at  the  nearest  point,  but  as  it  was  me  he  would 
do  so;  and  on  we  went,  and  went  so  fast,  and  had  been 
going  so  long,  that  I  began  to  think  the  conductor  had 
forgotten  all  about  it,  and  taken  me  past  the  place;  but 
as  I  wanted  to  appear  deliberate  and  quiet,  like  a  man 
who  knows  what  he  is  about,  I  said  nothing.  At  length 
the  cars  stopped,  and  the  conductor,  looking  at  me,  said, 
"Here  is  your  place,  Mister."  I  took  my  satchel,  stepped 
off  the  cars,  and  away  they  went.  Now,  the  place 
where  I  got  off  was  no  place  in  particular,  and  as  I 
did  not  ask  the  conductor  which  side  of  the  railroad  the 
meeting-house  was  on,  and  as  there  was  no  road  leading 
off  from  the  point  where  he  put  me  down,  nor  anybody 
about  to  direct  me,  I  did  not  know  which  way  to  start; 
and  as  the  sun  was  pretty  low,  and  the  weather  toler- 
ably cold,  I  knew  I  ought  to  be  going  somewhere;  so 
I  looked  all  around,  and  at  last  saw  a  small  house  off 
some  distance  in  an  old  field,  and  concluded  I  would 
go  and  see  if  I  could  find  some  person  who  would  tell 
me  where  to  go.  When  a  townsman  gets  away  off  in 
the  country,  he  hardly  knows  what  to  do;  but  I  took 
up  my  satchel  and  started  for  the  house.  It  was  a  very 
small  one,  but  when  I  got  there  and  hallooed,  a  large 
lady  came  to  the  door.  I  told  her  where  I  wanted  to 
go,  and  asked  if  she  knew  where  the  meeting-house 
was.  She  said  she  did;  that  she  had  been  there  once, 
but  it  was  a  good  while  ago;  and  looking  closely  at  me, 
said,  "Ain't  this  Mr.  So-and-so?"  I  told  her  it  was. 
She  replied,  "I  thought  so;  we  heard  that  you  were 
coming  to  the  meeting."  This  pleased  mo  very  much. 
Now  you  know  for  a  body  to  be  heard  of  and  talked 


450  COUNTRY-MEETING    EXPERIENCES. 

about  so  far  from  home  means  something.  I  asked 
her  how  far  it  was  to  the  meeting-place,  and  was  told 
that  it  was  a  right  smart  distance,  several  miles,  and  a 
powerful  bad  road,  and  that  I  could  not  get  there  on 
foot  before  dark,  and  if  night  should  overtake  me  it 
would  be  monstrous  dark  over  in  the  hollers  that  way. 
I  told  her  I  must  go  somewhere,  and  asked  her  if  there 
was  any  house  on  the  road.  She  said  there  warn't.  I 
inquired  if  there  was  any  house  near  the  meeting- 
house, and  was  told  that  the  nearest  house  was  a  saw- 
mill, which  would  not  be  a  fittin1  place  to  stay;  that 
there  was  another  house  not  a  great  way  off,  but  the 
man  who  lived  there  had  moved  away;  and  the  nearest 
place  that  I  could  stay  at  was  Mr.  II. 's,  half  a  mile 
up  the  creek.  I  told  her  that  there  was  no  use  in  talk- 
ing, that  I  was  bound  to  go  somewhere,  and  had  no 
time  to  lose.  She  told  me  if  I  had  a  mind  to  try  it, 
just  to  take  that  road  yonder,  and  she  believed  the 
plainest  part  of  it  would  take  me  to  the  meeting-house. 
So  off  I  started,  but  had  not  gone  far  before  I  saw  a 
man  coming  on  horseback,  and  concluded  to  wait  and 
inquire  of  him.  He  came  up  at  last,  riding  a  small. 
narrow-looking  horse,  carrying  a  bundle.  I  asked  him 
all  about  the  matter,  and  learned  that  it  was  farther 
than  I  thought,  that  I  could  not  get  there  on  foot  that 
night — the  road  was  bad  and  hard  to  find.  On  my 
asking  him  what  I  should  do,  he  pointed  to  a  bluff  on 
the  opposite  side  of  a  creek  that  ran  through  the  val- 
ley we  were  in,  and  told  me  of  a  man  living  up  there 
with  whom  I  could  stay.  But  how  could  I  get  across 
that  creek?  He  wanted  to  know  if  I  could  not  go  over 
on  the  railroad  bridge;  and  when  I  told  him  I  should 
have  to  try  it,  he  looked  at  me  and  my  satchel,  and, 
seeming  to  be  rather  troubled,  at  length  said,  "Well,  I 


COUNTRY-MEETING   EXPERIENCES.  451 

will  tell  you  what  I'll  do:  I  will  set  you  across  on  my 
horse,  right  against  the  bluff;  a  horse  cannot  climb  it, 
but  I  think  you  can."     So  saying,  he  dismounted  and 
told  me  to  get  up  and  ride,  and  he  would  walk  through 
a  nigh  way  and  meet  me  at  the  creek.     I  mounted  at 
once,  and,  taking  my  overcoat,  satchel,  and  all  into  the 
account,  was  nearly  as  large  as  the  horse.    "Now,"  said 
he,  "go  along  down  by  the  railroad  till  you  come  to  a 
road  turning  off  to  the  left,  around  a  fence,  and  just  keep 
round  the  fence  till  you  come  to  where  I  shall  meet 
you."     So  on  I  went,  and  when  I  got  around  the  fence 
to  the  creek,  there  was  my  friend,  sitting  on  the  ground 
waiting  for  me.     "Is  this  the  place  where  I  have  to 
cross?"  I  inquired.     "Yes,"  said  he.     "But,"  said  I, 
"there  is  no  road  nor  ford  here,  that  I  can  see."     "No," 
said  he,  "but  I  have  waded  all  through  the  creek  here,_ 
and  know  all  the  deep  places,  and  if  you  follow  my  di- 
rections there   is   no   danger.     You  will   have  to  go 
straight  across  until  you  get  about  half  way,  then  turn 
right  up  and  go  till  you  get  against  that  big  rock  yon- 
der that  the  water  is  running  over,  and   then  turn 
square  off  to  the  other  bank,  going  within  about  six 
feet  of  that  big  rock."     So  I  fixed  myself  up  in  the 
saddle  the  best  I  could,  with  my  satchel  on  before  me; 
the  great  trouble  was  to  get  my  legs  so  disposed  of  as 
to  keep  them  out  of  the  water,  which  was  pretty  deep, 
and  very  swift;  and  as  we  moved  along  my  little  nar- 
row horse  gave  a  kind  of  low,  easy  snort,  as  the  cold 
water  came  up  around  him.    "You've  gone  far  enough," 
said  my  friend;  "turn  right  up."     So  I  turned  right  up 
against  the  stream,  and  the  breast  of  my  little  spunkjT 
horse  split  the  current  like  the  bow  of  a  steam-boat, 
and  up  we  went  until  my  friend  on  the  shore  called 
out,    "Now   turn    toward    the    bank,"    which    I   did 


452  COUNTRY-MEETING    EXPERIENCES. 

promptly.    "You  must  mind,"  hesaid;  "there  are  some 
mighty  big  rocks  over  on  that  side;"  and  you  maybe 
sure  I  was  minding  the  best  I  could.     At  length  he 
said,  "You  are  going  too  near  the  big  rock — turn  up 
more;"  and  in  trying  to  turn  up,  my  little  horse,  as 
supple  as  a  cat,  climbed  up  on  the  top  of  a  great  rock 
in  the  water,  which  was  concealed  by  the  current. 
When  my  horse  got  on  the  rock  he  made  one  big  snort. 
"Now,"  said  my  friend,  "you  are  in  a  fix;  how  are 
you  going  to  get  off  that  rock?"     My  little  horse  was 
trembling  with  cold  or  fright,  and  did  not  like  to  go 
into  deep  water  any  more,  and  I  expected  when  he  did 
we  should  both  go  under  together,  and  the  idea  of 
all  my  things  in  the  satchel  getting  wet  was  most  dis- 
tressing.    I  wanted   to   hold   by  the   mane,  but   the 
satchel  had  to  sit  right  on  the  place  I  wished  to  take 
hold  of.     After  some  turning  around,  and  a  good  deal 
of  coaxing,  my  horse  went  off  with   a  plunge  and  a 
grunt,  but  he  did  not  fall  or  go  under;  I  got  my  feet  a 
little  wet,  however.     Now,  my  advice  to  any  one  who 
wishes  to  buy  a  good   little  horse  is,  buy  that  one. 
When  once  on  land,  I  dismounted,  and  throwing  the 
stirrups  over  the  saddle  and  tying  up  the  bridle,  I  drove 
the  horse  into  the  creek,  that  he  might  go  back  to  his 
owner,  which  he  did,  after  so  long  a  time.     "Now," 
said  my  friend,  "climb  right  up  the  bluff,  if  you  can, 
until  you  get  into  a  little  path,  and  then  follow  that  up 
the  creek  until  you  can  get  out  on  top,  when  you  can 
see  Mr.  C.'s  house;"  and  he  waited  to  see  whether  I 
could  climb  the  bluff  or  not.     He  was  really  a  clever 
man;  there  are  not  many  town-men  that  would  have 
done  for  me  what  he  did,  without  pay;  his  only  object 
was  to  help  me  out  of  a  difficulty. 

I  found  Mr.  C.  a  very  worthy  gentleman;  staid  all 


COUNTRY-MEETING   EXPERIENCES.  453 

night,  and  the  next  day  he  took  me  to  the  meeting;  and 
as  I  was  not  accustomed  to  riding  on  horseback,  he 
carried  my  satchel  for  me.  When  we  reached  the 
meeting-house  we  found  it  nearly  full  of  people.  You 
know  there  is  quite  a  difference  between  town -people 
and  country-folks  about  going  to  meeting — town  -people 
don't  like  to  go  except  on  Sundays.  Preacher  G. 
preached;  and  I  liked  the  way  they  sang — they  took 
hold  on  the  tune  and  the  words  with  a  strong  grip,  and 
slapped  them  together,  and  let  them  know  that  they 
were  made  for  each  other,  and  went  right  ahead  with 
them  in  a  hurry,  so  that  there  was  no  fear  that  they 
would  lose  the  tune,  or  let  it  all  die  on  their  hands; 
and  they  got  under  such  headway  that  they  never 
stopped  until  they  sang  the  last  half  of  the  last  verse 
over  twice.  I  suppose  they  did  that  so  as  to  taper  off, 
and  not  stop  too  suddenly.  And  I  noticed  another 
thing:  when  the  preacher  became  warmed  up  with  his 
sermon,  the  old  men  sitting  around  would  say,  Amen! 
and  the  like,  and  it  never  seemed  to  disturb  the  meet- 
ing in  the  least;  but  you  know  the  like  of  that  would 
not  begin  to  do  in  town.  When  preaching  was  over, 
as  I  was  afoot — for  my  horse  had  to  go  back  home — I 
went  to  the  nearest  place — Mrs.  H.'s,  about  half  a  mile 
distant;  preacher  D.  and  a  good  many  young  people 
were  with  me. 

When  night  came  on  I  concluded  not  to  go  to  preach- 
ing, as  it  would  be  dark  coming  back;  and  as  I  was 
chilled,  thought  that  when  all  the  rest  went  to  the 
meeting  I  would  make  a  good  fire,  keep  the  door  shut, 
and  get  thoroughly  warmed  before  they  returned. 
Away  out  in  the  country  they  make  a  big  fire,  but 
they  think  it  is  unhealthy  to  close  the  door,  so  that  I 
could  not  get  both  sides  warmed  up  at  the  same  time; 


454  COUNTRY-MEETING   EXPERIENCES. 

for  while  I  would  be  warming  one  side,  the  other  was 
becoming  cold,  and  that  does  not  suit  one  who  lives  as 
near  town  as  I  do.  I  should  like  for  you  to  form  the 
acquaintance  of  preacher  D.;  he  came  eight  miles  on 
foot  to  the  meeting;  is  very  tall,  but  by  no  means  fat. 
He  had  a  strong  argument  on  Scripture  with  preacher 
G-. — they  are  both  mighty  deep  men.  D.  said  that  the 
beasts  were  never  made  to  be  eaten;  that  they  had 
souls,  and  would  live  again  hereafter.  Gr.  asserted  that 
if  Adam  did  not  eat  hogs  he  did  not  know  what  use 
he  had  for  them;  he  could  neither  work,  milk,  nor  shear 
them;  and  he — G. — did  not  see  what  else  Adam  could 
put  them  at,  unless  it  was  to  root  up  his  garden,  and  so 
relieve  him  of  the  labor  of  plowing  it. 

Preacher  D.  went  to  church  with  the  others  that 
night,  and  in  going  they  had  to  cross  a  creek;  and 
after  they  got  there  he  began  to  think  about  the  diffi- 
culty of  going  back  in  the  dark,  and  somehow  took  it 
into  his  head  that  he  had  crossed  the  creek  twice,  when 
he  need  only  to  cross  it  but  once.  Now,  people  at 
meeting  ought  not  to  suffer  their  minds  to  be  wander- 
ing in  that  way.  But  preacher  D.  thought  that  he 
could  avoid  one  crossing  of  the  creek  by  going  part  of 
the  wa}r  through  the  field;  so  when  the  meeting  was 
over  ho  left  the  crowd,  took  to  the  field,  and  got  his 
fine  new  suit  of  jeans  full  of  burs,  but  went  on  until 
he  thought  it  was  time  for  him  to  cross  the  fence  and 
take  the  road.  At  this  point  the  fence  was  built  along 
the  bank  of  the  creek  where  there  was  a  deep  hole  of 
water;  and  as  the  bank  was  so  steep  that  nothing  could 
climb  it,  the  fence  at  this  place  was  quite  low;  and  here, 
preacher  D.  thought,  was  the  best  place  for  him  to  get 
over;  and  as  the  water  looked  rather  white  in  the 
night,  he  took  it  to  be  the  road;  so  he  put  one  leg  over 


COUNTRY-MEETING   EXPERIENCES.  455 

the  fence,  then  the  other,  and  making  a  spring,  jumped 
cachug  into  the  middle  of  the  deep  hole;  so  that  when 
he  came  to  the  house  he  was  wet  up  to  the  waist  and  full 
of  burs.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  fallen  in  the  water, 
seeing  he  was  wet  nearly  all  over.  He  said  that  he 
had  not,  that  he  caught  on  his  feet.  "Well,"  said  I, 
"how  did  you  manage  to  get  wet  so  high  up?"  "Why," 
said  he,  "the  water  is  just  this  deep,"  measuring  away 
up  to  his  waist.  I  told  him  there  must  be  some  mis- 
take about  the  matter — that  I  did  not  think  he  could 
find  water  one  foot  deep  anywhere  in  that  branch. 
His  answer  was,  "I  will  show  you  to-morrow;"  and 
so  he  did.  There  is  one  deep  hole  in  the  branch,  and 
but  one,  and  he  had  managed  to  jump  precisely  in  the 
deepest  part  of  it. 

The  congregation  next  day,  at  eleven  o'clock  preach- 
ing, was  large;  not  more  than  half  the  people  could 
manage  to  find  sitting  or  standing  room  in  the  house, 
but  even  those  outside  were  quiet  and  attentive  to  the 
preaching;  and  when  service  was  over,  the  preacher 
announced  that  there  would  be  meeting  again  at  night; 
that  the  people  could  come  before  dark,  and  have  moon- 
light to  go  back  by;  but  that  was  a  mistake — the  moon 
cannot  be  relied  on,  for  she  is  continually  changing 
the  time  of  her  rising.  Preacher  W.  was  there,  and 
wished  to  come  home  with  me,  as  we  lived  close  to- 
gether, and  I  had  determined  to  come  before  night  to 
some  place  near  the  railroad;  but  W.  had  not  yet  had 
a  chance  to  preach,  and  it  is  a  mighty  poor  business 
for  a  preacher  to  go  to  meeting  with  a  sermon  already 
made,  and  not  have  a  chance  to  preach  it;  so  W.  con- 
cluded that  he  would  stay  and  preach  at  night,  and 
after  meeting  come  on  to  where  I  was  going  to  stay. 
When  service  was  over  he  had  company  for  a  mile  or 


456  COUNTRY-MEETING    EXPERIENCES. 

two,  but  one  after  another  they  turned  to  the  right 
and  the  left  for  their  homes,  leaving  him  to  make  his 
way  alone. 

The  night  was  dark,  for  the  sluggish  old  moon  had 
not  risen,  notwithstanding  the  promise  of  the  preacher, 
and  W.  was  entirely  unacquainted  with  the  road;  but 
he  had  special  instruction  to  this  effect:  that  soon  after 
passing  through  a  certain  muddy  lane,  he  should  take 
the  left-hand  end  of  a  big  road,  which  would  lead  him 
to  Mr.  B  's,  where  I  had  stopped  for  the  night.  The 
lane  was  passed  at  last,  and  W.  took  the  left-hand  end 
of  a  wood -road  that  passed  around  the  field;  this  led 
him  around  by  the  fence,  and  up  a  dark  hollow  into 
the  hills,  and  there  it  went  to  pieces  and  gave  out,  and 
he  was  lost.  He  saw  a  light  at  last,  through  the  wood, 
and  made  for  it.  It  was  in  a  little  hut  occupied  by  an 
old  darkey.  \V.  called,  but  Cuifee  would  not  answer — 
he  thought  it  was  an  enemy.  W.  told  him  that  he  was 
a  lost  preacher,  and  was  trying  to  find  his  way  to  Mr. 
B.'s,  and  he  must  come  out  and  direct  him.  The  old 
negro  armed  himself  with  a  long  knife  and  ventured 
out,  and  gave  W.  the  necessary  information,  but  it 
brought  him  up  on  the  wrong  side  of  B.'s  house,  and 
he  came  precisely  at  the  wrong  time.  H.  wanted  to 
lie  down,  and  G.  had  just  read  a  psalm  and  all  had 
kneeled  for  prayer,  when  W.  began  to  halloo  back  of 
the  garden.  B.'s  dogs,  great  and  small,  went  with 
fury  to  drive  off  the  intruder,  and  were  baying  W.  at 
a  great  rate.  While  he  was  shouting  "Halloo!  begone! 
get  out!"  and  the  dogs  were  keeping  up  their  bow- 
wow-wow! Gr.  stopped  praying,  and  said,  "Let  some 
one  go  out  and  relieve  the  man,"  and  then  resumed  his 
prayer.  W.  was  rescued  from  the  dogs,  and  the  next 
morning  we  took  the  cars  for  home.  And  now  let  me 


A  VISIT   TO    BALTIMORE.  457 

say  to  you  that  the  meeting  was  a  good  one,  the 
weather  fine,  there  was  a  good  congregation,  and  I  had 
a  first-rate  place  at  which  to  stay.  1869. 


A  VISIT  TO  BALTIMORE. 

I  AVAIL  myself  of  this  the  first  moment's  leisure  to 
give  you  a  brief  account  of  my  late  visit  to  Baltimore, 
and  of  the  transactions  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Mis- 
sions. 

We  met  on  the  evening  of  March  2,  and  continued  to 
meet  from  day  to  day  for  eight  days,  Sunday  excepted; 
and  1  think  all  the  interests  committed  to  our  trust 
were  cared  for.  "We  had  a  full  meeting  of  the  Board, 
and  were  favored  with  the  presence,  more  or  less,  of 
three  Bishops — viz.,  Early,  Wightman,  and  Doggett. 
Bishops  Early  and  Doggett  were  almost  constantly  with 
us,  and  Bishop  Wightman  occasionally;  but  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Conference  required  his  attention  mainly. 
We  were  also  favored  with  the  presence  of  Brother 
Cunnyngham,  who  had  been  acting  as  Corresponding 
Secretary  during  the  year,  and  of  the  Eev.  John  Har- 
rcll,  Superintendent  of  the  Indian  Mission  Conference. 
Brother  Cunnyngham  had  fully  acquainted  himself 
with  the  condition  of  the  China  Mission,  and  was  able 
to  furnish  the  Board  with  all  the  information  necessary 
for  a  perfect  understanding  of  the  condition  and  pros- 
pects of  that  mission;  and  it  is  my  opinion  that  more 
substantial  good  is  now  accomplished  by  our  missiona- 
ries in  China  than  at  any  former  period,  for  the  reason 
that,  through  the  influence  of  schools  and  a  religious 
newspaper,  they  are  able  to  attract  public  attention,  and 
thereby  greatly  widen  the  circle  of  religious  influence; 
20 


458  A    VISIT   TO    BALTIMORE. 

so  that  those  who  have  entertained  fears  with  regard 
to  the  success  of  this  mission  may  now  take  courage. 

We  were  very  fortunate  in  having  the  presence  of 
Brother  Harrell,  who  has  been  among  the  Indians  for 
twenty -five  years,  and  it  large  portion  of  that  time 
superintendent  of  our  missions.  He  is  now  little  more 
than  sixty  years  old,  a  man  of  fine  health  and  great 
powers  of  endurance,  with  a  clear,  sound,  well-balanced 
intellect  and  spotless  Christian  character,  and  is  greatly 
devoted  to  his  work.  From  him  we  obtained  all  the 
information  that  could  have  been  desired;  and  his  rep- 
resentations of  the  present  condition  of  that  mission 
were  full,  clear,  satisfactory,  and  encouraging.  The 
four  tribes  that  were  under  our  care  —  Cherokees, 
Creeks,  Choctaws,  and  Chickasaws — were  wasted  and 
impoverished  by  the  war,  and  our  schools  were  broken 
up,  and  the  regular  work  of  the  missionaries  was  al- 
most entirely  suspended  for  awhile;  but  it  is  wonderful 
to  learn  how  the  broken  fragments  have  been  reunited, 
and  life  and  motion  restored.  The  missionaries  are 
doing  a  large  business  on  a  small  capital ;  great  success 
attended  their  labors  in  that  field  last  year.  There  is  a 
demand  for  more  laborers,  and  many  preachers  and 
teachers  are  greatly  needed  in  that  department.  They 
are  very  destitute  of  houses  of  worship.  At  present 
the  missionary  preaches  mainly  in  cabins  and  under 
the  shade  of  trees.  A  few  thousand  dollars  appropri- 
ated in  aid  of  building  houses  of  worship  at  a  few  cen- 
tral localities  would  be  of  incalculable  advantage  in  the 
interest  of  that  mission.  In  order  to  make  the  work 
permanent  and  accumulative,  we  must  have  houses. 

From  the  front  ranks  of  "Western  emigration  there  is 
a  call  for  missionaries.  There  is  also  an  open  field  in 
South  America,  which  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 


A   VISIT   TO   BALTIMORE.  459 

South,  alone  can  fill.  Since  the  close  of  the  war  not  a 
few  of  our  Southern  people  have  gone  thither,  with  a 
class  of  feelings  and  views  which  would  at  once  secure 
a  welcome  to  a  Southern  preacher.  The  persons  who 
have  gone  from  the  Southern  States  to  Central  and 
South  America  are  superior  in  knowledge  and  general 
information  to  those  among  whom  they  have  settled, 
and  cannot  fail  to  make  an  impression  upon  them;  and 
thus  a  door  for  usefulness  is  opened  to  our  ministers, 
while  it  is  closed  against  those  from  a  Northern  lati- 
tude; so  that  our  way  is  now  clear,  and  duty  demands 
that  we  should  occupy  that  country.  A  portion  of  the 
people  already  speak  our  language,  so  that  a  preacher 
could  be  felt  at  once  in  his  true  character.  The  de- 
mands upon  us  are  great.  We  could  find  the  laborers, 
but  we  have  not  the  money  to  sustain  them. 

Brother  Smithson,  our  late  Treasurer,  did  much  dur- 
ing the  year  in  promoting  the  interests  of  the  missions, 
and  by  his  twenty -five  cents  proposition  obtained  sev- 
eral thousand  dollars,  which  was  appropriated  in  aid  of 
paying  off  the  old  debt.  He  found  it  necessary  to  re- 
sign his  office  as  Treasurer,  and  Brother  T.  J.  Magruder, 
a  prominent  layman  of  Trinity  Charge,  was  elected  to 
fill  his  place. 

It  is  due  to  Bishop  Early  that  I  should  say  in  this 
connection  that,  notwithstanding  his  age  and  the  ex- 
treme cold  weather,  he  was  constantly  at  his  post,  and 
faithfully  served  us  as  chairman  of  the  Board;  while 
Bishop  Doggett  contributed  largely  to  the  perfecting 
of  our  work,  and  interested  us  greatly  with  an  account 
of  his  visit  to  the  Indian  Mission  Conference. 

In  closing  my  remarks  with  reference  to  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  Board.  I  will  say  that  I  think  the  pros- 
pects for  our  foreign  missions  are  better  than  they  have 


460  A   VISIT   TO   BALTIMORE. 

been  since  the  General  Conference.  A  settlement  bus 
to  be  made  with  claimants  in  the  West  before  I  can  be 
able  to  give  facts  and  figures  with  regard  to  the  old 
debt,  though  the  prospects  are  better  than  they  were. 
I  know  you  will  expect  me  to  say  something  about 
the  Baltimore  Conference,  which  was  in  session  at  the 
time  of  the  meeting  of  the  Board;  and  what  shall  I 
say?  There  was  more  of  it  than  of  any  Annual  Con- 
ference I  have  ever  seen;  I  suppose  there  were  about 
three  hundred  preachers  present,  besides  the  laymen; 
visitors  in  great  numbers  —  preachers  from  Virginia, 
Holston, Western  Virginia,  Tennessee,  Kentucky,  North 
Carolina,  and  Dr.  Deems  from  New  York.  I  cannot 
name  them  all,  and  therefore  will  not  begin.  Why  it 
is  that  so  many  visitors  go  to  the  Baltimore  Conference 
I  cannot  tell;  nor  am  I  prepared  to  say  why  it  is  that 
if  a  preacher  goes  there  one  year  he  has  a  strong  de- 
sire to  go  again;  but  such  is  the  fact.  The  people  of 
Baltimore  and  the  preachers  of  the  Conference  under- 
stand and  practice  the  art  of  making  every  person  feel 
at  home.  I  asked  a  number  of  persons,  whom  I  knew, 
where  they  staid,  who,  after  giving  the  name,  invaria- 
bly added,  "One  of  the  best  places  in  the  city."  All 
seemed  to  think  they  were  at  the  best  places.  Now,  if 
you  should  ever  go  to  the  Baltimore  Conference,  and 
wish  to  remain  at  a  really  hospitable  home,  be  sure  to 
go  to  Mr.  S.  G.  Miles's.  I  observed  another  fact:  if  a 
preacher  wished  to  preach,  or  to  make  a  speech  in  Con- 
ference on  some  subject,  opportunities  were  certain  to 
be  afforded  him;  if  he  wished  to  hear  preaching,  he 
could  hear  as  much  of  it  as  he  was  inclined  to  listen  to; 
if  he  was  fond  of  singing,  he  could  be  accommodated 
at  the  church  or  Sunday-school;  if  he  desired  to  give  a 
little  money  to  the  institutions  of  the  Church,  he  could 


A    VISIT   TO   BALTIMORE.  461 

be  favored  with  that  privilege;  if  he  wished  to  write 
letters  or  read  newspapers,  he  found  ample  facilities  at 
the  office  of  the  Episcopal  Methodist;  if  he  wished  to 
smoke,  a  pipe  or  cigar  was  at  his  service;  if  he  wished 
to  converse  with  a  friend,  he  had  only  to  go  into  the 
basement  of  the  church,  and  there  he  would  find  well- 
warmed  rooms  and  comfortable  seats;  and  if  he  desired 
to  look  upon  the  faces  of  a  multitude  of  true  Christian 
women,  he  had  only  to  look  beyond  the  bar  of  the 
house. 

They  know  how  to  get  up  an  occasion  in  the  Balti- 
more Conference.  The  Sunday-school  gathering  at 
Trinity  Church  was  a  wonderful  affair.  The  large 
house  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity;  even  the  aisles 
were  crowded  with  persons  standing.  The  Sunday- 
school  scholars  sang  charmingly;  but  they  did  much 
more  than  that:  each  class  furnished  a  portion  of  a 
miniature  church-building,  and  with  it  a  contribution 
to  the  missionary  cause,  and  a  motto  taken  from  the 
word  of  God.  This  motto  was  handed  to  one  of  the 
preachers,  who  delivered  a  short  sermon  upon  the  text; 
so  that  there  were  thirty-two  sermons  preached,  about 
twelve  hundred  dollars  paid  into  the  treasury  of  the 
Lord,  and  the  front  elevation  of  Trinity  Church  built  in 
miniature — the  exercises  being  interspersed  with  music, 
and  all  done  in  three  hours.  All  this  time  there  were, 
I  should  think,  at  least  three  or  four  hundred  persons 
who  could  not  obtain  scats,  but  who  stood  as  still  as 
statues.  That  was  a  great  success,  and  will  appear  still 
greater  when  it  is  known  that  on  the  night  previous 
a  collection  for  home  missions  was  taken  up,  in  the 
same  church,  at  the  close  of  Dr.  Munsey's  sermon, 
which  amounted  to  about  twelve  hundred  dollars! 
When  the  preachers  began  to  make  their  returns,  it 


462  A  VISIT   TO   BALTIMORE. 

was  found  that  the  Sunday-school  Agent  had  not  re- 
ceived his  salary,  and  in  one  day  an  assemblage  of 
Sunday-school  scholars  gathered  in  Central  Church, 
speakers  were  procured,  and  enough  collected,  I  believe, 
to  pay  him  in  full. 

"With  regard  to  the  regular  business  of  the  Confer- 
ence, it  is  not  necessary  that  I  should  say  any  more 
than  that  it  was  done,  and  well  done,  notwithstanding 
there  were  but  few  speeches  made,  and  the  house  was 
continually  crowded  with  men  and  women  who  had  no 
part  in  the  business  of  the  Conference;  but  the  Bishop 
held  to  the  question,  and  kept  up  the  order  of  business; 
and  such  men  as  Wilson,  Regester,  Roszell,  Thomas, 
and  many  others  that  might  be  mentioned,  knew  what 
to  say  and  when  and  how  to  act.  The  preacher  and 
his  aids  acted  well  their  part;  no  one  was  overlooked 
or  left  without  a  home.  There  was  no  death  among 
the  ministers  this  year;  all  had  good  health  and  great 
prosperity.  Dr.  Bond  and  Brother  Poisal  were  in  their 
places,  meeting  every  demand  and  fulfilling  all  expec- 
tations; and  many  persons  inquired  after  Dr.  S.,  the 
editor. 

I  went  to  see  the  new  painting  of  Bunyan's  Pilgrim, 
or  the  "Journey  of  the  Christian's  Life."  It  is  a  won- 
derful triumph  of  art.  I  sat  for  two  hours  contem- 
plating it  with  intense  interest.  I  am  not  able  to  say 
which  of  the  great  masters  who  were  engaged  in  the 
painting  deserves  the  highest  praise.  Only  two  faults 
were  apparent  to  my  mind,  one  of  which  was  in  the 
section  embracing  Yanity  Fair:  the  temptations  to  Pil- 
grim as  he  passes  through  are  too  obvious ;  to  the  mind 
of  a  pure  Christian  they  are  no  temptations  at  all,  be- 
cause they  can  awake  in  the  mind  of  a  good  man  no 
feeling  but  that  of  contempt  and  disgust.  The  other 


A    VISIT   TO    BALTIMORE.  463 

is  in  the  representation  of  Pilgrim's  entrance  into  the 
Celestial  City;  the  amount  of  light  thrown  on  the  can- 
vas is  so  great  that  it  approaches  flame,  and  conveys 
the  impression  of  great  heat,  which  is  ruinous  to  the 
effect.-  The  section  containing  the  view  of  Christian 
and  his  associates  contemplating  the  Celestial  City  from 
the  promontory,  or  point  of  rocks,  across  the  vale  of 
tears,  which  is  the  most  lovely  picture  I  have  ever  be- 
held, was  not  suffered  to  remain  long  enough  in  view. 
In  exhibiting  that  picture  there  should  be  no  haste. 
One  fact  impressed  me  while  looking  at  these  paintings : 
the  world  has  carried  sight-seeing  in  the  direction  of 
human  corruption,  and  catered  to  the  lowest  passions  of 
mankind,  until  society  has  become  disgusted  with  and 
turned  away  from  public  exhibitions;  but  the  frequent 
presentation  of  such  pictures  as  this  would  doubtless 
have  an  opposite  effect.  The  lecturer  on  the  occasion 
talked  of  "shouting,"  "getting  happy,"  "getting  re- 
ligion," and  now  and  then  exhorted  his  audience  to  be- 
come religious.  The  words  religion,  happy,  shouting, 
and  heaven,  fell  as  easily  from  his  lips  as  if  he  had  been 
preaching  at  a  camp-meeting. 

On  Thursday  of  the  Conference — as  the  Board  did 
not  meet  till  night — at  eight  o'clock  A.M.,  I  threw  myself 
into  a  car,  and  in  two  hours  or  less  I  was  in  "Washington, 
standing  on  the  Avenue,  looking  at  the  procession  pass. 
I  waited  until  I  thought  about  one -half  had  gone  by, 
and  then  made  my  way  to  the  east  side  of  the  Capitol, 
and  got  a  position  from  which  I  could  sec  whatever  of 
the  inauguration  that  was  to  be  seen.  The  multitudes 
present  could  only  be  counted  by  the  acre;  I  suppose 
there  were  ten  acres  of  people  present — a  description 
is  out  of  the  question.  The  people  were  swaying  and 
driving  to  and  fro  like  the  waves  of  the  sea;  no  ono 


464  MR.    DIXON. 

seemed  to  know  where  to  go  or  what  to  do;  some  few 
stood  still,  others  walked  slowly,  many  walked  fast, 
and  some  ran  at  full  speed.  Go  which  way  you  would, 
the  crowd  seemed  to  be  going  the  contrary  way;  turn 
about,  and  you  would  think  they  were  all  coming  back 
again.  At  one  time  a  vast  multitude  had  crowded  up 
against  a  tall  fence,  north  of  the  Capitol;  those  who 
were  against  the  fence  could  get  no  farther;  those  be- 
hind thought  something  was  going  on  in  that  direction, 
and  continued  to  crowd  on,  till  at  length  a  portion  of 
the  fence,  near  the  ground,  was  removed,  making  an 
opening  three  feet  square,  and  through  this  opening 
they  began  to  pass.  If  a  person  got  to  it  without  get- 
ting his  head  down,  he  had  to  go  through  feet  foremost ; 
but  it  was  easy  to  get  through  in  that  way — when  the 
feet  were  once  through  the  hole  the  pressure  of  the 
crowd  soon  forced  the  body  after  them.  They  were 
mainly  negroes.  I  saw  the  President  read  his  speech, 
but  could  not  hear  him  distinctly. 

I  returned  at  three  o'clock  P.M.  The  crowd  on  the 
car  was  vast,  but  silent;  nobody  talked;  all  looked 
tired;  all  had  muddy  feet;  all  wanted  to  get  away;  and 
whether  anybody  saw  what  he  went  to  see,  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  determine.  iseo. 


MR.  DIXON. 

WE  are  so  dependent  on  each  other  in  this  life  that 
not  a  day  passes  over  our  heads  in  which  we  do  not 
incur  an  obligation  to  some  person  for  favors  or  serv- 
ices of  some  kind.  This  is  particularly  the  case  with 
travelers  who  are  passing  through  countries  strange 
and  new  to  them,  and  wish  aid  which  cannot  be  pur- 


MR.    DIXON.  465 

chased  with  money;  and  more  than  once  in  my  life, 
when  in  very  peculiar  circumstances,  I  have  found  a 
friend  as  perfectly  suited  to  my  necessities  as  if  he  had 
been  made  to  order;  and  when  I  anticipated  the  greatest 
difficulty  and  trouble,  I  found  the  largest  measure  of 
comfort  and  enjoyment. 

A  case  of  this  kind  occurred  to  me  lately,  so  marked 
that  I  think  it  worth  relating.  I  was  on  my  way  to 
Augusta,  Arkansas,  where  the  White  Kiver  Conference 
was  to  hold  its  session,  and  as  I  expected  to  meet  the 
Eev.  W.  C.  Johnson  at  Memphis,  who  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  country  through  which  I  was  about 
to  travel,  I  did  not  take  any  especial  pains  to  inform 
myself  in  regard  to  the  best  route.  On  leaving  Mem- 
phis, I  found  that  I  was  disappointed  by  not  meeting 
Brother  Johnson.  I  knew  that  Augusta  was  on  the 
bank  of  White  River,  and  that  the  train  to  Little  Rock 
touched  at  Duvall's  Bluff,  on  that  river,  and  that  I 
could  there  take  a  boat  to  Augusta;  but  on  mentioning 
this  fact  to  a  stranger  with  whom  I  was  conversing,  he 
told  me  that  the  water-courses  were  so  low  that  I  could 
not  reach  Augusta  before  Saturday  or  Sunday,  and  pos- 
sibly not  so  soon.  This  was  on  Tuesday,  and  the  Con- 
ference was  to  begin  the  next  morning.  The  gentle- 
man went  on  to  tell  me  that  there  was  a  station  on  the 
way,  called  Brinkly,  at  which  persons  often  stopped,  and 
made  their  way,  as  best  they  could,  through  the  coun- 
try, the  distance  being  thirty-five  or  forty  miles;  but, 
on  inquiry,  I  learned  that  there  was  no  public  convey- 
ance of  any  kind,  and  that  if  I  went  to  Duvall's  Bluff 
and  could  not  get  a  boat,  I  should  find  it  almost  impos- 
sible to  travel  through  the  country.  How  this  dead  cen- 
ter between  Brinkly  and  Augusta  could  be  expeditiously 
passed  was  the  difficulty  to  be  overcome.  Just  at  this 
20* 


466  MR.    DIXON. 

moment  I  found  on  board  the  train  the  Rev.  Dr.  Collins, 
of  Memphis,  who  was  also  on  his  way  to  the  Conference, 
and  who  introduced  me  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Alexander 
Dixon.  Now,  I  want  the  reader  to  become  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Dixon.  I  should  judge  that  he  was  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  years  old,  would  weigh  about  one  hundred 
and  thirty  pounds,  and,  if  he  had  not  been  too  much 
exposed  to  the  sun,  would  have  been  fair-skinned  and 
handsome;  he  was  well-proportioned,  and  had  a  very 
prepossessing  countenance;  he  was  dressed  in  the  ordi- 
nary style  of  a  business  man,  and  had  an  ease  of  man- 
ner which  is  common  to  those  who  understand  what 
they  are  doing.  I  soon  told  him  that  I  wished  to  go  to 
Augusta,  but  did  not  know  how  to  get  there,  to  which 
he  replied,  "Give  yourself  no  trouble  on  that  score;  I 
will  see  to  it  that  you  shall  get  there  in  good  time." 
He  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  a  horse  and  buggy  at 
Brinkly,  and  had  already  promised  to  take  Dr.  Collins 
to  the  Conference.  But  how  he  could  accommodate  the 
Doctor  and  myself,  weighing  about  two  hundred  pounds 
each,  with  our  satchels,  shawls,  and  overcoats,  and  also 
ride  himself,  I  did  not  fully  comprehend.  In  due  time 
we  reached  Brinkly,  and  in  a  few  moments  Mr.  Dixon's 
horse  and  buggy  were  ready,  and  the  baggage  stowed 
away;  then  Dr.  Collins  and  myself  were  requested  to 
take  our  seats;  and  Mr.  Dixon  so  doubled  up  his  legs  as 
seemingly  to  seat  himself  on  his  feet;  and  off  we  went. 
I  was  astonished  to  find  that  we  were  so  comfortably 
fixed  for  our  buggy  ride. 

I  soon  found  that  Mr.  Dixon  was  no  common  man. 
He  seemed  to  be  familiar  with  all  the  subjects  of  our 
conversation ;  he  was  a  merchant,  and  was  at  present 
traveling  for  a  large  cotton -house  in  Memphis;  he  had 
been  a  soldier,  planter,  hunter,  angler,  and  was  fa- 


MR.    DIXON.  467 

miliar  with  the  business  and  commerce  of  the  country. 
He  had  very  little  to  do  with  politics;  but,  as  far  as  he 
expressed  his  opinions,  I  found  him  right — that  is,  ad- 
mitting that  I  was  not  wrong.  He  was  a  Christian,  a 
member  of  the  Methodist  Church,  sound  in  the  faith, 
and  pointed  out  to  us  the  place  where  he  joined  the 
Church.  I  could  not  mention  an  Arkansas  preacher, 
of  whom  he  did  not  know  something,  and  he  was  also 
familiar  with  the  periodical  literature  of  the  Church. 
He  was,  so  far  as  the  country  through  which  we  were 
passing  was  concerned,  better  than  any  guide-book  in 
the  world;  he  knew  all  who  lived  on  the  road — their 
politics,  their  religion  (if  they  had  any),  and  their  finan- 
cial condition ;  he  knew  all  the  bayous,  lakes,  streams, 
and  sloughs;  he  knew  how  to  escape  the  deep  holes  and 
quicksands  in  crossing  streams;  he  pointed  out  the  best 
hunting-grounds  and  fishing-points  along  the  way,  and 
gave  us  some  of  his  adventures  with  large  game.  He 
spoke  clearly  and  distinctly,  so  that  he  was  easily  heard, 
and  was  so  attentive  to  the  conversation  of  others  as 
never  to  require  them  to  repeat  what  was  said.  He  had 
no  hobb}r,  nor  did  he  bore  us  with  his  own  affairs.  He 
saved  us  from  feeling  too  keenly  the  obligation  we  were 
under  to  him,  by  saying  how  fortunate  he  was  in  falling 
in  with  such  good  company,  and  never  once  asked  what 
we  would  have  done  if  we  had  not  met  him;  his  whole 
object  seemed  to  be  to  impress  us  with  the  idea  that  he 
was  the  -benefited  party.  He  was  a  good  talker  and  an 
excellent  listener.  He  knew  all  the  good  places  at 
which  to  stop  on  the  road;  and  as  night  came  on  we 
drew  up  at  a  very  comfortable-looking  farm-house,  and 
he  told  us  to  alight,  as  we  should  stay  all  night  at  this 
place.  In  a  few  moments  I  found  I  was  all  right;  Mr. 
Dixon  and  our  host  were  old  friends,  and  we  were  in- 


468  MR.    DIXON. 

vited  into  the  house.  We  could  see  at  once  the  air  of 
comfort  that  pervaded  this  home;  every  thing  was  in 
perfect  order;  a  wood-fire  threw  its  cheerful  light  and 
heat  upon  a  clean -swept  hearth;  and  the  ease  and 
grace  with  which  the  gentleman  and  his  wife  welcomed 
us  seemed  to  say,  ""We  are  glad  to  have  you  stay  with 
us."  A  more  pleasant  night  could  not  have  been  de- 
si  red. 

"We  were  off  in  good  time  in  the  morning,  and  I  was 
a  little  troubled  because  I  could  not  recollect  the  name 
of  the  gentleman  with  whom  we  had  staid,  which  was 
Lintegun.  Mr.  Dixon  said  at  last,  "I  will  tell  you  how 
you  can  recall  the  name  at  any  time.  First,  think  of 
Liri,  a  tree;  then,  of  tea,  that  you  drink;  and  then  of 
a  gun;"  so  that,  with  these  aids  to  memory,  I  shall 
never  forget  the  name.  Finding  that  Mr.  Dixon  was  a 
single  man,  and  very  popular  with  the  ladies  wherever 
we  met  them,  I  ventured  to  ask  him  why  he  did  not 
marry.  In  reply  he  said  that  he  had  a  widowed  mother 
and  two  sisters,  who  held  the  first  lien  upon  his  affec- 
tions, service,  and  money;  but  the  time  might  come 
when  he  should  find  it  convenient  to  take  a  wife.  The 
country  through  which  we  were  traveling  was  beauti- 
ful. We  crossed  some  flowing,  limpid  streams,  and 
passed  two  or  three  lakes  that  lay  sleeping  in  the  for- 
est, which  were  all  full  of  fish,  and  at  intervals  we  saw 
wide  fields  of  cotton  and  corn ;  our  road  was  smooth, 
and  our  traveling  almost  noiseless. 

About  the  dinner-hour  we  drove  up  to  the  hotel  in 
Augusta,  having  enjoyed  one  of  the  most  pleasant 
rides  I  ever  had,  for  which  I  returned  to  Mr.  Dixon 
this  acknowledgment,  on  parting  with  him  at  the  hotel : 
"I  am  much  indebted  to  you  for  this  pleasant  and 
successful  trip;"  to  which  he  replied,  "Let  me  know 


HURRICANE    SPRINGS.  469 

when  you  wish  to  return,  and  I  will  try  to  make  your 
trip  back  more  pleasant  than  the  one  we  have  had."  I 
saw  no  more  of  him  for  several  days,  and  began  to  be 
anxious  about  my  return  trip,  but  suddenly  my  friend 
D.  presented  himself  and  said,  "When  will  you  want 
to  start  back?"  I  told  him  that  an  appointment  had 
been  made  for  me  at  Cotton  Plant  for  Sunday  night. 
He  said,  "You  will  have  to  leave  as  early  as  one  o'clock; 
it  is  twenty-five  miles,  and  some  of  the  road  not  very 
good."  The  hour  was  fixed,  and  at  one  o'clock  he 
dashed  up  with  a  pair  of  fine  horses  and  a  neat  two- 
seated  express,  saying,  "Get  aboard,  let's  be  off;"  and 
we  went  that  evening  in  good  style,  passing  every  thing 
on  the  road.  Cotton  Plant  was  reached  in  good  time, 
a  large  congregation  was  in  waiting,  and  I  trust  the 
sermon  was  not  unprofitable.  Next  day  we  were  again 
at  Brinkly  in  good  time,  and  there  I  took  leave  of  our 
friend  Dixon ;  and  I  am  sure  I  speak  the  feelings  of  my 
traveling  companion,  Dr.  Collins,  when  I  say  that  no 
travelers  were  ever  better  cared  for  than  we  were  by 
our  friend  D.  18n. 


HURRICANE  SPRINGS. 

I  HAVE  been  spending  a  few  days  at  Hurricane 
Springs,  and  as  the  world  does  not  know  a  great  deal 
about  the  place,  have  concluded  to  furnish  you  a  few 
items.  These  Springs  are  located  on  the  line  between 
Franklin  and  Moore  counties,  the  line  running  through 
the  spring;  and  part  of  the  buildings  are  in  Franklin 
and  part  in  Coffee  counties;  distant  from  Nashville 
about  seventy-five  miles,  and  six  and  a  half  miles  south 
of  Tullahoma.  The  elevation  is  about  twelve  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  about  seven  him- 


470  HURRICANE   SPRINGS. 

dred  above  the  great  limestone  basin  of  Middle  Ten- 
nessee. We  are  here  on  the  first  bench  of  the  Cum- 
berland Mountains,  which  is  about  twenty-five  miles 
in  breadth,  and  something  more  than  one  hundred  in 
length.  The  country  on  this  bench  is  generally  pretty 
level,  while  the  principal  dip  is  from  the  western  bor- 
der toward  the  Cumberland  Mountains,  so  that  the 
highest  point  on  the  railroad  between  Nashville  and 
Chattanooga — with  the  exception  of  the  tunnel  near 
Cowan — is  Tullahoma;  hence,  the  elevation  at  this 
point  is  nearly  as  great  as  that  of  Beersheba.  The  soil 
is  generally  thin,  but  very  productive,  and  is  easily 
made  rich  by  fertilizers.  The  Springs  are  in  a  slight 
gorge,  some  fifty  feet,  I  should  think,  below  the  aver- 
age elevation  of  this  bench.  The  country  immediately 
around  the  Springs  is  rather  poor,  the  timber  mainly 
oak  and  chestnut,. and  of  recent  growth.  I  should 
think  that  seventy-five  years  ago  it  was  principally 
barren.  The'spring  took  its  name  from  a  creek  which 
runs  within  about  a  mile  of  the  place,  and  the  creek 
was  so  named  from  a  hurricane  which  passed  over  the 
country  through  which  it  flows,  many  years  ago. 

The  water  in  this  section  of  the  country  is  consid- 
ered the  purest  freestone,  while  the  atmosphere  is  cool 
and  bracing.  There  is  not  about  this  sulphur  spring, 
as  is  frequently  the  case,  a  low,  marshy  deposit;  but 
the  healing  waters  flow  from  a  stratum  of  slate,  or 
shale,  and  seems  to  be  the  mere  weeping  of  the  rocks, 
and  not  very  abundant,  yet  is  unfailing,  not  being  af- 
fected in  the  least  by  rainy  or  dry  seasons;  and,  I 
should  judge  from  the  high  temperature,  flows  from  a 
great  depth.  The  shale,  or  slate,  from  which  it  flows 
contains  quite  a  number  of  mineral  properties.  Salt 
is  not  found  in  any  great  quantity  in  the  water,  but 


HURRICANE   SPRINGS.  471 

during  the  night  comes  out  from  the  crevices  of  the 
rock,  and  becomes  crystallized  during  the  day.  The 
place  was  called  the  "Lick"  in  the  early  settlement  of 
the  country,  from  the  fact  that  many  kinds  of  game 
resorted  to  it  for  its  saline  properties.  Hunters  built 
their  booths  here  and  awaited  the  coming  of  the  game. 
These  rocks  have  been  stained  by  the  blood  of  many  a 
noble  buck.  A  snarly  poplar  was  pointed  out  to  me 
the  other  day  which  still  shows  the  crooks  and  bends 
produced  by  a  huntsman  fifty  years  ago,  who  bent  its 
trunk  and  twisted  its  branches  together  to  make  a 
blind,  behind  which  he  sat  and  watched  for  game.  The 
poplar  has  grown  to  a  respectable  tree,  and  remains  as 
a  faithful  sentinel.  A  few  varieties  of  game  still  linger 
in  the  neighboring  woods,  but  the  huntsman  has  passed 
away,  and  men,  women,  and  children  now  stroll  and 
gambol  over  what  was  once  the  inheritance  of  wild 
beasts. 

It  is  now  about  fifty  years  since  these  waters  were 
first  resorted  to  as  a  restorer  of  health,  and  were  used 
mainly  for  those  diseases  peculiar  to  females,  and  dis- 
eases of  the  skin,  and  were  soon  found  to  be  valuable 
in  diseases  of  stomach  and  bowels.  But  the  true  value 
of  the  water  was  never  discovered  until  after  the  return 
of  the  army  from  the  war  in  Mexico,  when  a  young 
man  in  almost  a  dying  condition  from  diseased  bowels 
was  brought  here  and  soon  relieved,  which  fact  became 
generally  known  in  a  short  time  throughout  this  sec- 
tion of  the  country,  and  the  result  was  that  about  fifty 
returned  soldiers  came  to  the  Springs,  and  were  healed. 

The  water  is  found  to  contain  a  number  of  powerful 
remedial  agents,  among  which  are  sulphate  of  soda, 
chloride  of  sodium,  chloride  of  potash,  carbonate  of 
lime,  carbonate  of  magnesia,  oxide  of  iron,  iodine,  sul- 


472  HURRICANE   SPRINGS. 

phureted  hydrogen  gas,  carbonic  acid  gas,  silicic  acid, 
chlorine  gas.  The  diseases  for  which  the  water  is  par- 
ticularly recommended  are  dyspepsia,  liver  complaint, 
cholera  morbus;  and  for  those  of  the  kidneys  and  skin, 
it  is  regarded  a  superior  alterative. 

We  have  here  at  this  time  about  one  hundred  visit- 
ors. I  should  think  about  eighty  per  cent,  of  them  have 
come  for  health,  and  probably  none  for  pleasure  alone. 
Yet  I  do  not  see  why  pleasure-seekers  might  not  find 
here,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  that  which  they  are  in  pur- 
suit of.  The  rooms  are  clean,  airy,  and  comfortable, 
the  bedding  is  all  that  could  be  desired  —  at  least, 
mine  is — the  food  abundant,  and  well  prepared.  I 
think  the  Messrs.  Miller  have  been  very  fortunate  in 
the  selection  of  their  cooks.  There  is  not  much  dis- 
play of  round  tables,  empty  dishes,  and  crimped  towels, 
but  you  will  sit  down  to  a  dinner  very  much  like  that 
you  will  meet  with  among  the  best  livers  in  the  coun- 
try, while  the  servants  are  honest  and  attentive.  As 
to  the  morality  of  the  place,  I  am  happy  to  state  that  I 
never  saw  it  excelled;  have  been  here  more  than  a 
week,  and  have  neither  heard  an  oath  nor  detected 
whisky  or  brandy  on  the  breath  of  any  one.  The  en- 
tire party  seems  to  be  as  one  genial,  happy  family. 
There  are  both  hunting  and  fishing  privileges  here,  but 
I  have  not  availed  myself  of  them.  Croquet  is  the 
principal  amusement,  together  with  a  little  dancing 
among  the  children  after  the  piano,  for  we  have  no 
band  of  music.  The  principal  thing  that  I  consider 
lacking  here  is  this:  there  is  no  provision  made  for 
riding  or  driving — no  public  stable  being  kept  here, 
which  I  think  might  be  made  profitable,  and  would  add 
greatly  to  the  pleasure  of  the  guests. 

I  do  not  know  any  watering-place  where  an  invalid 


MEMPHIS    CONFERENCE.  473 

would  be  more  likely  to  find  health  and  comfort  than 
at  Hurricane  Springs.  The  proprietors  have  recently 
put  up  a  new  building,  which  greatly  enlarges  the  ca- 
pacity of  the  establishment.  I  think  I  can  say  with 
safety  that  all  the  invalids  but  one  are  improving,  and 
appear  at  the  table. 

I  wish  you  had  a  few  weeks  to  spare,  and  would  come 
and  rest  and  heal  your  eyes.  As  to  the  price  of  living, 
I  believe  that  many  persons  would  find  it  cheaper  to 
come  here  than  to  stay  at  home.  There  is  one  thing 
that  is  perfectly  refreshing  to  me,  and  that  is  the  anx- 
iety of  the  proprietors  that  every  one  should  receive 
benefit  and  be  happy.  One  thing  which  causes  me  to 
feel  particular  interest  in  the  place  is  that  I  think  I 
have  been  benefited  myself.  1872. 


MEMPHIS  CONFERENCE. 

I  REACHED  Somerville  on  Wednesday  evening,  No- 
vember 21,  and  found  the  Bishop  in  position  and  the 
Conference  under  way.  An  Annual  Conference  is  a 
great  affair — one  of  the  most  interesting  festivals  of 
the  Church.  There  are  no  men  of  any  craft  or  party 
who  fraternize  and  sympathize  with  each  other  more 
than  itinerant  preachers;  and  after  having  been  sepa- 
rated for  a  year,  they  come  together  to  take  each  other 
by  the  hand,  to  talk  over  the  trials,  labors,  and  suc- 
cesses of  the  year.  Each  one  has  picked  up  something 
of  interest  during  the  year,  which  he  is  ready  to  relate, 
while  others  are  prepared  to  hear;  so  that  conversation 
flows  like  a  stream;  old  friendships  arc  renewed,  and  . 
new  acquaintances  are  made;  distinguished  visitors 
and  strangers  arc  every  day  introduced  to  the  Confer- 


474  MEMPHIS   CONFERENCE. 

cnce,  while  the  preachers  are  frequently  meeting  old 
and  true  friends  from  among  the  laity — persons  con- 
nected with  charges  served  by  them  in  other  years;  so 
that  it  is  almost  a  constant  stream  of  excitement.  An- 
other feature  of  the  festival  is  this:  the  families  who 
entertain  the  preachers  allow  them  to  bring  any  friends 
they  desire  to  dine  or  sup  with  them;  while  every 
preacher  you  meet  with  is  under  the  impression  that 
he  has  the  best  place  in  the  town;  so  that  nothing  can 
exceed  an  Annual  Conference  in  a  social  point  of  view; 
and  since  lay  representation  has  been  introduced  into 
our  Annual  Conferences  we  have  a  number  of  laymen 
mingling  with  the  clergy,  and  in  such  close  commun- 
ion with  them  that  they  seem  to  be  a  unit;  and  so 
many  matters  come  up  in  the  Conference-room  that 
there  is  no  flagging  of  interest  there;  while  at  each 
church  preachers  from  different  parts  of  the  country 
appear  in  the  pulpit  and  on  the  platform;  and  differ- 
ent boards  and  societies  hold  their  anniversaries.  Al- 
together there  is  nothing  like  a  Methodist  Annual 
Conference. 

In  the  examination  of  character  the  preachers  were 
found  innocent  in  life  and  conversation.  Upon  the 
present  occasion  there  was  an  additional  interest  in  the 
fact  that  the  Bishop  was  a  new  man,  never  having  met 
this  Conference  before,  and  it  was  really  refreshing  to 
see  how  he  won  his  way  and  made  favor  among  both 
preachers  and  people;  and  to  hear  the  words  of  com- 
mendation that  came  from  every  one. 

Another  feature  of  the  Annual  Conference  is  the 
deference  paid  to  the  aged  ministers.  They  are  fur- 
nished with  front  seats,  and  are  listened  to  as  oracles. 
In  looking  over  this  Conference  I  might  say  the  cen- 
tral figure  is  G.  W.  D.  Harris,  who  is  considered  as  the 


MEMPHIS   CONFERENCE.  475 

father  of  the  Conference.  He  still  sits  in  the  midst  of 
his  brethren,  seeing  every  thing  and  hearing  but  little, 
as  he  is  partially  deaf.  The  preachers  generally  call 
him  "Uncle  George."  His  long  life  of  labor  and  use- 
fulness sits  upon  him  as  a  crown  of  honor  and  glory; 
a  large  number  of  the  members  of  the  Conference 
were  brought  into  the  Church  and  licensed  to  preach 
by  him,  and  he  looks  upon  them  as  his  children,  and 
you  will  not  unfrequently  hear  the  preachers  say,  "I 
wish  he  was  young  again."  It  was  delightful  to  see 
how  both  preachers  and  people  hung  upon  his  lips 
while  he  preached  the  sermon  before  the  ordination  of 
elders.  I  was  surprised  to  find  his  mind  so  well  pre- 
served, while  his  body  is  sinking  under  the  pressure 
of  age  and  disease.  He  has  been  a  power  in  his  day. 
Close  by  him  sits  Thomas  Joyner,  whose  physical 
strength  has  been  better  preserved,  and  who  is  still 
able  to  take  work.  His  face  is  a  true  index  to  a  kind 
and  generous  heart,  while  his  mellow  voice  in  song  still 
melts  and  warms  the  hearts  of  his  brethren.  Close  to 
him  is  Brother  Davidson,  whose  beard  is  as  white  as 
wool,  but  his  countenance  bright  and  balmy;  and  he  is 
still  able  to  go  in  and  out  among  his  brethren.  These 
brethren  have  been  in  the  harvest-field  of  this  world's 
ruin,  sickle  in  hand,  for  nearly  half  a  century,  gather- 
ing sheaves  for  the  heavenly  garner,  with  sandals  worn, 
and  the  dust  of  long  travel  and  labor  on  their  gar- 
ments; the  sickles  begin  to  swag  in  their  hands,  and 
soon  they  will  reach  them  forth  for  the  last  sheaf,  and 
when  the  Master  of  the  vineyard  shall  call  his  laborers 
to  their  eternal  reward,  these  faithful  men  will  go  up 
higher. 

The  business  of  the  Conference  was  finished  up  in 
good  style,  and,  as  far  as  I  was  able  to  judge,  general 


476  MEMPHIS    CONFERENCE. 

satisfaction  was  the  result.      The  Central  University 
scheme  met  with  unusual  favor,  passed  the  Conference 
without  one  dissenting  voice,  and  Brother  Patterson 
was  appointed  agent — a  better  could  not  have  been  se- 
lected ;  so  that  the  prospects  of  this  institution  brighten 
every  day.     There  were  several  visiting  brethren  pres- 
ent, among  whom  were  Dr.  Wiley,  of  Emory  and  Henry 
College,  and  Brother  Comer,  of  the  Tennessee  Confer- 
ence.    The  Conference  contributed,  in  cash  and  sub- 
scriptions, something  more  than  eleven  hundred  dollars 
for  the  refitting  of  the  Publishing  House,  and  I  hope 
the  Conferences  yet  to  be  held  will  do  likewise.     The 
Missionary  Anniversary  was  not  satisfactory.     I  do  not 
know  why  it  is  that  we  can  raise  money  for  almost  any 
purpose  with  more  ease  than  for  the  cause  of  Missions. 
This  ought  not  so  to  be.     The  indebtedness  to  the  Pub- 
lishing House  was  generally  paid  off.  and  if  I  had  time, 
I  think  I  could  induce  almost  every  one  here  to  take 
the  Advocate.     Somcrville,  the  seat  of  the  Conference, 
is  an  old  town  of  some  two  or  three  thousand  inhab- 
itants.    The  Conference  was  accommodated  in  good 
style.     Thirty -five  years  ago  I  was  at  a  Conference  in 
this  town,  and  was  entertained  by  Dr.  Hickerson  and 
his  young  and  lovely  wife,  and,  when   reaching  the 
place  assigned  me  this  time,  was  agreeably  surprised 
to  find  myself  in  the  same  house ;  but  changes  had  taken 
place :  the  Doctor  had  passed  away,  but  Mrs.  Hickerson 
and   four  children   remain,  and  Mr.  Spain,  who   has 
married  her  youngest  daughter,  lives  with  the  mother. 
In  this  truly  worthy  and  hospitable  family  I  have 
found  a  pleasant  home.     The  citizens  and  preachers 
are  mutual  in  their  expressions  of  pleasure  and  grati- 
fication. 

The  next  session  of  the  Conference  is  to  be  held  in 


HOT   SPRINGS,   ARKANSAS.  477 

Memphis.  I  shall  leave  this  evening  for  Corinth,  the 
seat  of  the  North  Mississippi  Conference,  after  which 
you  may  hear  from  me  again.  1872 


HOT  SPRINGS,  ARKANSAS. 

WHEN  parting  with  you  I  promised  a  letter,  and 
wo.uld  have  redeemed  my  pledge  before  now,  were  it 
not  that  I  knew  that  between  the  reports  from  Com- 
meneement-exercises,  the  proceedings  of  District  Con- 
ferences, and  the  general  news  of  the  Church,  you  must 
be  greatly  crowded,  and  we  do  not  like  to  be  crowded 
this  hot  weather;  so  I  decided  to  wait  a  little;  and  it 
may  be  that  I  am  now  too  soon  for  your  comfort.  The 
fine  rain  of  yesterday  has  cooled  the  air  a  little,  which 
had  its  influence  on  me;  but  it  is  still  too  hot  for  per- 
fect comfort. 

The  Hot  Springs  of  Arkansas,  where  I  am  now  so- 
journing, is  a  place  of  great  interest  in  many  respects, 
and  will  be  more  so  as  the  world  grows  older.  It  is 
situated  sixty  miles  a  little  south  of  west  from  Little 
Bock,  among  the  outcroppings  of  the  Ozark  Mountains, 
south  of  the  main  range,  in  latitude  34°  40',  with  an 
elevation  of  seventeen  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea.  The  Hot  Springs  Valley  extends  from  north 
to  south  for  a  considerable  distance.  The  western 
mountain,  or  ridge,  is  about  eight  hundred  feet  high, 
with  a  very  abrupt  descent,  while  the  ridge  east  of  the 
valley  is  not  so  high  by  two  hundred  feet,  and  has 
rather  a  gentle  slope.  This  is  the  ridge  from  which  the 
Hot  Springs  gush  forth.  The  surrounding  country  is 
generally  poor,  but  is  well  supplied  with  timber,  chiefly 
pine  and  oak.  The  surface-soil  consists  of  about  equal 


478  HOT   SPRINGS,   ARKANSAS. 

portions  of  earth  and  gravel;  the  rocks  are  generally 
freestone,  and  give  evidence  of  a  great  upheaval,  as 
they  are  in  perpendicular  strata,  with  a  slight  inclina- 
tion to  the  north-west,  in  the  direction  of  the  main 
range  of  the  Ozark  Mountains.  Within  a  few  miles  of 
where  I  am  now  writing  is  the  great  Arkansas  whet- 
stone quarry,  containing  sufficient  material  to  supply 
the  world  with  hones  and  wlietstones;  and  some  fifteen 
miles  distant  is  the  Crystal  Mountain,  which  will  .one 
day  supply  the  world  with  glasses  for  spectacles. 

This  region  would  furnish  an  interesting  field  for 
the  mineralogist.  The  country  is  free  from  all  that 
would  produce  malaria;  so  that  I  should  think  a  more 
healthful  locality  cannot  be  found.  The  streams  arc 
clear,  and  generally  flow  in  a  southern  direction;  for 
the  whole  water-shed  is  toward  the  south.  The  coun- 
try is  but  thinly  settled,  and  the  improvements  only 
moderate,  the  land  being  too  poor  to  tempt  persons  to 
make  settlements,  except  in  the  valleys  or  near  the 
water-courses.  Game  is  yet  plentiful  in  the  forests; 
deer  are  abundant,  and  the  streams  are  full  of  fish. 

The  Hot  Springs  colony  extends  a  distance  of  two 
miles  along  the  valley,  the  average  width  of  which 
does  not  exceed  two  hundred  yards.  Through  the  val- 
ley flows  a  small,  clear  brook,  into  which  the  waters  of 
the  Hot  Springs  are  emptied.  There  is  one  main  road, 
or  street,  which  runs  the  whole  length  of  the  valley, 
and  on  each  side  of  which  are  the  principal  buildings 
of  the  place,  many  of  them  standing  across  the  stream. 
The  buildings  are  entirely  of  wood,  and  generally  of  a 
cheap  and  inferior  quality,  the  legal  title  to  the  soil  not 
being  settled.  I  should  think  the  permanent  popula- 
tion does  not  exceed  one  thousand,  while  there  are 
probably  fifteen  hundred  visitors.  Almost  every  house 


HOT   SPRINGS,   ARKANSAS.  479 

is  either  an  hotel,  a  boarding-house,  or  a  shop  of  some 
description.  The  visitors  are  from  all  parts  of  the 
country,  either  in  search  of  health  or  nurses  to  those 
who  are  afflicted.  I  supposed  that  where  there  were  so 
many  sick  general  gloom  and  melancholy  would  pre- 
vail, but  the  fact  is  very  different.  A  large  proportion 
of  the  invalids  consider  themselves  improving,  which 
renders  their  spirits  buoyant,  and  delights  their  friends, 
so  that  we  are  a  happy  set. 

With  regard  to  the  Hot  Springs,  which  ai*e  the  won- 
der and  admiration  of  all  who  visit  the  place,  a  few 
words  will  not  be  amiss.  There  are  between  forty  and 
fifty  diffei-ent  springs,  or  jets;  they  are  not  mere  seeps, 
but  most  of  them  are  bold,  strong  springs.  An  area  of 
one-quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  and  some  two  hundred 
yards  in  width,  contains  them  all.  They  issue  from  a 
ledge  of  the  ridge,  two  hundred  feet  high  on  its  western 
slope,  and  each  spring  seems  to  be  entirely  independent 
of  the  others,  the  temperature  of  no  two  of  them  being 
precisely  the  same.  There  are  none  of  a  temperature 
lower  than  110°  Fah.,  while  that  of  some  is  as  high  as 
160°. 

The  mineral  deposits  are  not  at  all  alike  in  color; 
each  spring  has  its  own  peculiar  deposit.  Where  the 
water  is  conducted  in  open  troughs  the  deposit  is  abun- 
dant; but  when  conducted  in  close  pipes,  there  is  no 
deposit  at  all.  It  seems  that  as  soon  as  the  water  is 
exposed  to  the  action  of  the  atmosphere  decomposition 
commences,  certain  properties  being  thrown  off  by 
cooling;  so  that  it  will  be  difficult  to  obtain  a  satisfac- 
tory analysis,  as  the  water  cannot  be  analyzed  until  it 
is  partially  cooled.  I  suppose  we  may  account  in  this 
way  for  the  fact  that  this  water,  when  cool,  is  found  to 
contain  only  seventeen  per  cent,  of  mineral  substances, 


480  HOT   SPRINGS,   ARKANSAS. 

while  it  is  an  interesting  fact  that  no  vegetable  matter 
has  been  found  in  it. 

The  source  of  the  heat  of  the  water  is  not  known. 
At  first  I  supposed  it  to  be  the  result  of  chemical  ac- 
tion ;  but  I  have  changed  my  opinion ;  for  although  the 
temperature  of  the  different  springs  is  not  the  same,  yet 
in  any  one  of  them  it  is  the  same  from  day  to  day,  and 
from  year  to  year;  and  if  we  admit  the  heat  to  be  the 
result  of  chemical  action,  we  should  expect  variations 
in  temperature,  as  the  chemical  supply  might  increase 
or  diminish.  It  is  farther  worthy  of  note  that  no 
drought,  however  long  continued,  has  ever  diminished 
the  amount  of  water,  while  floods  of  rain  never  increase 
it.  These  springs  are  independent  of  rain  and  dew, 
having  no  dependence  on  the  condition  of  our  atmos- 
phere, nor  any  connection  with  surface  drainage,  but 
continue  their  constant  flow,  as  though  they  were  from 
another  world. 

The  remedial  agent  in  these  waters  has  yet  to  be  dis- 
covered; it  cannot  be  the  properties  of  the  few  minerals 
found  in  the  water.  But  it  will  be  found,  if  ever  found 
at  all,  in  the  heat  of  the  water;  for  the  heat  is  cer- 
tainly of  a  peculiar  kind.  Any  ordinary  water,  heated 
by  chemical  action — heated  over  a  fire,  for  instance — 
will  offend  the  mucous  membrane,  and  make  the  per- 
son drinking  it  sick.  But  not  so  with  these  waters; 
they  offend  the  stomach  of  no  pei'son,  no  matter  what 
the  temperature  may  be,  or  who  it  is  that  drinks;  they 
are  taken  by  persons  whose  stomachs  are  so  irritable  as 
not  to  retain  any  kind  of  fluid,  and  yet  no  stomach  re- 
bels against  them;  and  it  is  almost  uniformly  the  case 
that  those  who  use  the  hot  water  soon  become  fond  of 
it,  and  want  no  other  kind.  I  will  say  farther,  with 
regard  to  the  heat  of  these  waters,  that  persons  may 


HOT    SPRINGS,    ARKANSAS.  481 

bathe  in  them  without  any  kind  of  prostration,  at  a 
temperature  which  would  be  unbearable  in  water  heated 
over  a  fire. 

As  to  the  medicinal  properties  of  the  water,  we  can 
only  judge  of  them  by  the  effects  produced,  which  are, 
in  many  instances,  truly  wonderful.  Take,  for  exam- 
ple, the  case  of  a  man  of  whom  I  have  some  knowl- 
edge, having  interested  myself  in  raising  a  small  purse 
to  pay  for  his  humble  board.  He  had  been  thrown 
into  a  wagon  which  was  coming  to  the  Springs  from 
Little  Rock,  as  you  would  throw  in  a  worthless,  filthy 
bundle;  he  was  almost  naked,  and  the  miserable  gar- 
ments that  he  had  on  him  were  cemented  fast  to  his 
body  by  the  discharges  from  his  ulcers.  He  had  on 
him  more  than  eighty  ulcers,  some  of  them  as  large  as 
a  man's  hand.  He  could  not  be  admitted  into  any  reg- 
ular bath,  but  was  carried  to  the  hill-side  bath,  which  is 
a  small  excavation  in  the  cavernous  rock,  filled  with 
water  from  a  hot  spring  close  by.  He  was  tumbled 
into  this  pool,  and  in  two  weeks  he  was  walking  about, 
the  lesser  ulcers  already  healed,  and  in  six  weeks  he  was 
cured,  with  scarcely  a  scar  to  be  seen.  A  kind  and 
mercifu?  God  has  given  to  these  waters  the  power  of 
healing  the  most  loathsome  diseases.  This  fact,  when 
it  shall  be  known  throughout  the  land,  will  bring  un- 
numbered thousands  here;  for  here,  I  believe,  they  may 
find  perfect  soundness  of  health.  Persons  suffering 
with  all  kinds  of  diseases  are  here  seeking  relief;  many 
are  cured,  others  partly  relieved,  while  some  go  away 
without  being  benefited. 

Before  I  came  I  was  told  that  consumptive  persons 

would  be  injured  by  these  baths;  but  the  facts,  as  far  as 

I  can  gather  them,  are  to  the  contrary.     I  am  told  that 

persons  who  arc  affected  with  heart-disease  are  injured 

21 


482  HOT   SPRINGS,   ARKANSAS. 

by  the  bath.  I  buried  one  of  this  class  the  other  day. 
He  took  a  bath,  and  died  that  night.  All  diseases  of 
the  skin  are  either  cured  or  more  or  less  relieved.  The 
other  day  I  met  a  black  boy,  who  said  to  me,  "Don't 
you  know  Tom,  who  used  to  work  for  you?"  Poor 
Tom,  when  he  left  my  house,  was  so  eaten  up  with 
scrofula  that  he  was  an  offense  to  the  sight.  Not  able 
to  obtain  even  the  advice  of  a  doctor,  he  came  here,  and 
tumbled  into  this  hill-side  bath ;  he  is  now  a  well,  sleek, 
hearty  negro.  v 

There  should  be  some  provision  for  the  poor,  and  I 
suppose,  if  the  title  to  the  property  should  be  settled, 
there  will  be.  At  present  it  is  a  sight  which  will  not 
be  forgotten  to  go  to  this  hill-side  bath  when  the  poor, 
moneyless,  and  afflicted  come  to  be  healed;  you  would 
be  filled  with  wonder,  disgust,  and  astonishment;  and 
it  is  worthy  of  note  that  while  the  rich  give  a  dollar 
now  and  then  for  their  relief,  the  poor  help  each  other 
very  much.  A  man  who  has  use  of  one  leg,  with  his 
crutch,  will  help  the  man  who  has  no  use  of  his  legs  at 
all;  and  it  is  sad  to  find  many  of  them  full  of  vulgarity 
and  blasphemy;  and  yet  they  are  more  inclined  to  help 
each  other  than  were  those  in  the  porches  of  the  pool 
of  Siloam ;  for  some  person  will  help  the  meanest  of 
the  men  into  the  pool.  Here  can  be  often  seen  some 
poor  fellow  outside,  waiting  to  get  into  the  mud-hole,  as 
they  call  it,  while  some  one  already  in  the  bath  will  curse 
him,  and  tell  him  to  wait  a  little  while  till  he  shall  come 
out,  and  he  will  drag  his  rotten  carcass  into  the  bath ; 
and  while  poor,  diseased  men  have  this  roll-hole,  as  it  is 
sometimes  called,  poor,  unfortunate  women  have  no 
provision  made  for  them  at  all,  though  some  of  them,  I 
have  heard,  visit  this  same  pool  in  the  dark  hours  of 

the  night.     Besides  this  general  bath  there  are  several 

'  *•    ' 


HOT   SPRINGS,   ARKANSAS.  483 

small  holes,  where  persons  can  go  and  take  a  foot-bath. 
There  is  water  enough  running  from  these  springs  to 
bathe  many  thousands  every  day.  The  water  may  bo 
carried  in  pipes  almost  any  distance,  as  it  does  not  lose 
its  virtue  when  conveyed  in  a  close  pipe.  The  time 
will  come  when  all  these  springs  will  be  utilized  to  an 
extent  that  has  not  yet  been  imagined. 

With  regard  to  the  moral  aspect  of  the  place,  I  should 
say  it  is  not  good.  The  Methodists  had  the  misfortune 
to  have  their  house  of  worship  burned  some  time  ago, 
and  have  not  since  been  able  to  rebuild.  The  Catholics 
have  a  house  and  a  priest,  and,  I  suppose,  a  small  con- 
gregation. The  Episcopalians  have  a  house,  but  no 
regular  minister,  and  but  few  members.  The  Presby- 
terians have  neither  house  nor  preacher.  The  Baptists 
have  a  small  house,  badly  situated,  but  no  regular 
preacher.  The  Methodists  have  a  preacher  and  a,con- 
gregation,  and  worship  in  the  Baptist  church.  The 
preacher  is  a  young  man  of  talent  and  usefulness,  but 
feels  himself  fettered  because  he  has  no  house.  His 
Sunday-school  is  a  union  school,  so  that  our  literature 
cannot  be  admitted,  and  badly  do  the  children  need  it. 
This  is  a  great  drawback  these  days.  The  time  has 
been  when  the  Church  prospered  without  a  Sunday- 
school,  but  that  time  has  passed.  There  are  a  number 
of  good  and  pious  people  in  this  valley;  but  the  multi- 
tude pay  no  attention  to  Church-matters.  I  think  that 
if  the  Methodists  had  a  comfortable  house  for  worship, 
an  active,  working  minister  might  do  great  good.  I 
have  preached  for  the  people  almost  every  Sabbath 
since  I  have  been  here — sometimes  in  the  Episcopal 
church  (it  has  not  been  dedicated),  but  mostly  in  tho 
Baptist  church.  The  congregations  have  been  good, 
generally,  and  quite  an  interest  has  been  manifested  to 


484  HOT   SPRINGS,    ARKANSAS. 

hear  the  word;  but  there  has  been  nothing  like  a  re- 
vival among  the  people 

A  few  days  ago  I  was  called  on  to  officiate  at  the  burial 
of  a  young  man,  who  left  no  trace  of  his  identity  except 
the  name  on  the  hotel  register;  no  one  knew  where  ho 
lived,  where  he  was  from;  his  age  had  to  be  guessed  at; 
we  could  not  tell  whether  he  was  a  single  man  or  man 
of  family;  and  as  to  his  moral  character,  no  one  knew 
a  word. 

There  is  a  wide  field  for  pastoral  work  among  the 
hundreds  who  are  sick  in  this  valley.  The  country 
generally,  it  seems  to  me,  is  such  as  would  suit  a  man 
of  moderate  means.  In  the  depression,  and  along  the 
water-courses,  there  are  small  tracts  of  good  land, 
where  an  abundance  of  grain,  fruits,  and  vegetables 
might  be  raised ;  and  these  Springs  will  always  furnish  a 
good  market  for  any  surplus.  The  country  is  health- 
ful, the  climate  pleasant,  lands  can  be  bought  low, 
very  low,  and  railroads  are  beginning  to  open  up 
the  country  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  I  wish  you  had 
the  time  to  spend  a  few  months  here,  for  with  the  rest 
a.nd  the  baths  I  think  your  wasted  sight  would  be  re- 
stored. 1873. 

THE  night  after  leaving  Nashville  we  had  one  of  the 
most  fearful  rain-storms  that  I  ever  experienced,  and 
on  reaching  Memphis  the  whole  land  seemed  to  be 
covered  with  water,  so  that  the  six  o'clock  train  for 
Little  Eock  did  not  go  out,  and  we  spent  the  day  in 
Memphis,  and  took  the  evening  train,  which  was  a 
frightful-looking  prospect.  The  Mississippi  was  out 
of  its  banks,  and  for  forty  miles  there  was  nothing  but 
one  vast  sea  of  water,  save  the  narrow  embankment 
upon  which  the  train  crept  slowly  along.  I  took  a 


HOT   SPRINGS,   ARKANSAS.  485 

berth  in  the  sleeping-car,  and  committing  myself  into 
.the  hands  of  that  Almighty  Power  that  rules  in  heaven 
and  earth,  I  closed  my  eyes  upon  the  dangers  around 
me,  and  at  early  dawn  rose  just  in  time  to  see  the  train 
pass  over  the  new  and  splendid  bridge  that  spans  the 
Arkansas  Kiver  at  Little  Eock.  The  trip  had  been 
made  safely  with  an  immense  train  and  a  multitude  of 
passengers.  We  were  in  time  to  make  the  necessary 
connection,  and  at  eight  o'clock  landed  at  the  depot, 
where  we  took  stage  for  the  Springs;  and  although  I 
am  rather  an  old  traveler,  I  think  the  road  was  the 
worst  I  ever  saw — there  was  not  one  mile  of  good  road 
in  the  twenty-two;  it  had  rained  almost  every  day  for 
weeks,  and  the  amount  of  travel  was  immense,  so  that 
the  road  was  frightful;  but,  at  the  rate  of  a  little  over 
two  miles  per  hour,  we  made  the  trip  in  safety.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  stalling,  and  some  upsetting,  and 
we  passed  through  some  streams  where  the  water  ran 
into  our  hack,  yet  we  all  escaped  with  our  lives. 

So  many  had  passed  on  before  us,  notwithstanding 
the  difficulties  of  the  way,  that  we  found  the  pub- 
lic houses  at  the  Springs  so  crowded  that  we  had  to 
drive  around  for  some  time  before  we  could  find  quar- 
ters. The  number  here  at  present  is  much  greater 
than  at  any  previous  time  at  this  season  of  the  year. 
The  visitors  are  mainly  from  the  East  and  North — but 
few  from  the  South,  though  they  are  now  beginning  to 
come  in. 

Our  Church  here  is  improving;  Brother  Morris,  the 
preacher  in  charge,  is  an  earnest,  working  man,  and,  I 
think,  will  do  much  good.  We  are  worshiping  in  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  church  at  present;  they  have  no 
minister,  and  we  have  no  house,  having  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  have  our  church  burned  down.  Wo  have  a 


486  HOT    SPRINGS,    ARKANSAS. 

good  Sunday-school,  not  a  union  school — as  last  year — • 
but  a  Methodist  school,  pretty  well  supplied  with  our 
books.  The  members  and  friends  of  our  school  have 
determined  to  build  a  house  this  summer;  the  lot  is  se- 
cured, a  building-committee  appointed,  and  if  any  per- 
son at  a  distance  should  feel  inclined  to  help  them  it 
would  be  thankfully  received. 

I  have  preached  twice  every  Sunday  since  I  have 
been  here — in  the  morning  in  the  Episcopal  church, 
and  at  night  in  the  dining-room  of  the  Grand  Central 
Hotel,  to  good  congregations;  am  not  only  the  helping 
preacher  in  the  station,  but  am  now  appointed  by  Dr. 
Hunter  as  assistant  Presiding  Elder.  An  Arkansas 
District  is  something  worth  talking  about — too  large 
for  one  man. 

I  find  from  several  suggestions  in  the  papers,  but 
more  especially  from  letters  that  I  am  receiving  from 
various  directions,  that  there  will  be  more  changes 
called  for  at  our  approaching  General  Conference  than 
I  had  anticipated.  I  had  supposed  that  we  should  have 
but  little  to  do,  and  should  be  able  to  get  through  in 
about  two  weeks,  but  the  indications  are  that  we  shall 
have  a  long  session.  Some  wish  to  do  away  with  the 
home  missions  altogether,  others  wish  to  direct  all 
our  attention  to  the  home  work  and  abandon  the  for- 
eign missions;  and  so  we  go.  I  think  we  shall  have 
to  give  our  missionary  system  an  airing,  and  make 
some  changes,  but  it  is  difficult  to  tell  what  would  be  for 
the  best;  some  wish  the  Conferences  to  act  separately 
and  independently,  others  go  for  concentration.  I  think 
the  more  connectional  we  are,  in  the  main,  the  better, 
and  that  we  ought  to  watch  with  caution  every  thing 
that  looks  like  an  independent  or  congregational  sys- 
tem. Some  think  it  would  be  best  to  district  the  epis- 


BISHOPS'   MEETING   IN   ST.   LOUIS.  487 

copal  work,  and  thereby  get  rid  of  the  clamor  that 
comes  up  in  various  quarters  for  more  episcopal  service. 
Some  wish  to  do  away  with  the  Church  Conference, 
and  so  change  the  law  with  reference  to  District  Con- 
ferences as  to  hold  them  only  when  and  where  a  Bishop 
can  be  present,  and  others  are  inclined  to  give  these 
Conferences  more  power  and  authority.  And  of  late 
the  woman-movement  in  the  Temperance  cause  has 
greatly  excited  some  persons  on  the  subject,  and  they 
are  of  the  opinion  that  we  should  have  some  legislation 
upon  that  matter.  On  all  of  these  questions  we  should 
make  haste  slowly. 

I  think  the  Church  in  this  section  of  the  country  is 
prosperous  in  the  main,  and  am  glad  to  find  that  the 
Vanderbilt  enterprise  is  very  popular;  when  we  once 
get  under  way  there  will  be  an  immense  patronage 
from  this  country.  I  trust  my  health  is  improving,  and 
that  this  will  find  you  well  and  happy.  isn. 


BISHOPS'  MEETING  IN  ST.  Louis. 

THE  Bishops'  Meeting  in  St.  Louis  was  one  of  extra- 
ordinary interest;  they  were  all  present  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Bishops  Early  and  Marvin — Bishop  Early 
being  unable  to  attend  from  the  infirmities  of  old  age, 
and  Bishop  Marvin  from  distance,  being  in  California. 
There  were  also  present  quite  a  number  of  ministers 
and  laymen,  leading  members  of  the  Church.  The 
friends  in  St.  Louis  fully  appreciated  the  occasion,  and 
made  ample  provision  for  it.  I  am  happy  to  be  able  to 
say  that  the  Church  in  St.  Louis  is  keeping  up  with 
the  increase  of  population  and  growth  of  the  city,  and 
is  a  power  in  the  community.  The  church-buildings 


488  BISHOPS'  MEETING  IN  ST.  LOUIS. 

are  in  good  taste,  and  fully  up  with  the  age  and  the 
improved  style  of  architecture.  The  congregations  are 
large,  and  the  ministers  in  charge  of  them  fully  equal 
to  the  demands  made  upon  them.  St.  John's,  which 
was  dedicated  during  this  meeting,  is  a  perfect  gem;  in 
design,  style,  and  finish,  it  is  faultless;  and  is  now  com- 
pleted at  a  cost  of  about  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
Centenary  congregation  laid  the  corner-stone  of  a  new 
church  during  the  meeting,  which  I  understand  is  to 
exceed  St.  John's  in  its  cost  and  appointments. 

There  was  a  Sunday-school  convention  of  the  St. 
Louis  District  during  the  meeting  of  the  Bishops,  but 
it  took  into  its  deliberations  members  of  the  Church 
generally.  I  was  permitted  to  witness  a  part  of  the 
proceedings  of  this  convention ;  and  while  I  think  good 
was  accomplished  by  the  free  discussion  of  many  points 
of  interest  that  came  before  the  body,  yet  I  thought  I 
saw  a  disposition  to  do  something,  instead  of  having 
something  to  do.  When  we  have  something  to  do  we 
are  generally  practical,  but  when  it  is  a  mere  effort  to 
do  something,  it  is  mainly  theory — a  mere  resolution 
meeting.  While  on  this  subject,  permit  me  to  say  to  all 
concerned — as  there  is  a  disposition  for  Sunday-school 
conventions  among  our  people,  which  I  am  glad  to  see — 
if  we  do  any  thing  that  will  to  any  considerable  extent 
promote  the  interest  of  Sunday-schools,  we  shall  have  to 
work  in  sympathy  with  our  present  machinery  on  the 
subject ;  the  Church  could  not  conveniently  run  two  sys- 
tems. We  shall  have  to  keep  the  Sunday-school  inside 
the  Church-organization,  which  is  a  fine  one  on  this 
subject.  Let  those  conventions  work  under  that  char- 
ter, then  there  will  be  less  friction  and  no  strife,  and 
great  good  will  be  the  result. 

The  mass-meeting  of  the  Sunday-schools  in  the  city 


BISHOPS'    MEETING   IN   ST.   LOUIS.  489 

was  a  decided  success;  the  weather  was  fine,  the  hall 
in  which  the  gathering  took  place  is  immense  in  pro- 
portions, and  every  way  suited  the  occasion.  I  should 
think  there  were  fifteen  hundred  children  present,  with 
the  teachers  and  officers,  and  then  enough  outsiders  to 
make  two  thousand  persons.  No  one  fell  sick,  no  one 
fainted,  no  disturbance  of  any  kind  reached  my  eye  or 
ear;  the  music  was  transporting;  the  address  was  list- 
ened to  with  seeming  pleasure;  the  young  folks  in  their 
best  attire,  with  their  joy-lit  eyes  and  smiling  faces 
furnished  u  picture  of  beauty  exceeding  the  reaches  of 
fancy.  The  banners  and  mottoes  were  in  good  taste 
and  very  impressive;  altogether  it  was  a  success  in  the 
fullest  sense  of  the  word. 

There  was  what  was  called  a  "greeting  to  the  Bish- 
ops." This  came  off  in  the  First  Church,  which  was 
crowded  to  overflowing.  There  was  a  spice  of  novelty 
in  the  proceedings  which  helped  to  increase  the  inter- 
est. The  exercises  were  opened  with  singing  and 
prayer;  the  music  was  appropriate  and  inspiring;  the 
prayer  was  offered  by  Dr.  Smith,  whom  I  was  grieved 
to  find  so  worn  and  tired;  he  is  overworked,  and  must 
have  rest;  yet  his  mighty  intellect  seems  to  retain  its 
former  power  and  clearness.  Then  followed  a  very 
handsome  address  from  Governor  Polk,  a  lay -member 
of  the  congregation — a  welcome  of  the  Bishops  to  the 
hearts  and  homes  of  the  Methodists  of  the  city  of  St. 
Louis,  which  was  well  conceived  and  handsomely 
delivered.  Then  came  the  response  of  the  Bishops. 
I  had  supposed  that  they  would  select  one  of  their 
number  to  speak  for  the  whole  College,  but  was 
pleased  to  find  that  each  one  was  going  to  respond  in 
his  own  way;  and  glad  to  notice  how  completely  they 
preserved  their  individuality;  there  was  no  running 
21* 


490  THE   BISHOPS'   MEETING  IN   ST.   LOUIS. 

in  each  other's  grooves,  but  each  followed  his  own  nat- 
ural bent  in  manner,  style,  and  conception,  which  gave 
a  remarkable  interest  to  the  occasion.  Bishop  Andrew, 
led  off,  and  Bishop  McTyeire  brought  up  the  rear. 
They  said  nothing  which  I  wanted  left  out;  nor  left 
out  any  thing  which  I  wanted  said.  The  only  thing 
wanting  to  have  made  the  occasion  perfect  was,  that 
they  were  not  regularly  introduced  by  name,  though 
that  was  no  trouble  to  me,  as  I  knew  them  all;  but 
there  were  hundreds  who  did  not  know  who  was  ad- 
dressing them;  yet  the  occasion  was  one  to  be  remem- 
bered. The  Bishops  were  honored,  and  they  deserved 
it;  for  if  labor  and  sacrifice  on  one  hand,  and  useful- 
ness to  the  Church  and  devotion  to  the  cause  of  God 
on  the  other,  create  any  obligation  on  the  part  of  those 
who  receive  the  benefit,  a  debt  of  honor  and  gratitude 
is  due  the  Bishops  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
South. 

Our  missionary  meeting  was  an  occasion  of  consid- 
erable interest.  It  also  was  held  in  the  First  Church. 
The  audience  was  large,  and  Dr.  McFerrin,  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Domestic  Board,  made  a  telling  speech — one 
that  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  He  was  followed  in  a 
few  remarks  by  Bishop  Pierce,  and  a  collection  of  about 
eighteen  hundred  dollars  was  taken  up  for  domestic 
missions. 

The  interview  between  the  Bishops  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  (North)  and  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church,  South,  has  passed  under  your  eye  before 
this  writing,  and  I  am  not  inclined  at  present  to  make 
any  comment. 

I  cannot  close  without  saying  something  with  respect 
to  St.  Louis  hospitality:  I  never  saw  it  surpassed  in 
liberality,  elegance,  and  good  taste;  and  none  excelled 


THE   CHURCH    INTERESTS.  491 

mine  host,  Brother  L.  D.  Dameron.  I  was  also  im- 
pressed with  the  evidences  of  improvement:  the  city 
,is  growing  like  magic,  and  everything  seems  to  be 
done  on  a  large  and  liberal  scale.  I  am  under  obliga- 
tions to  so  many  of  the  good  people  and  the  preachers 
of  that  great  and  growing  city,  that  I  cannot  under- 
take to  mention  them  by  name;  but  can  only  say,  May 
reward  them !  iseo. 


THE  CHURCH  INTERESTS.* 

I  HAVE  been  thinking  of  writing  to  you  for  some 
time,  and  will  no  longer  delay.  I  see  that  the  Board 
of  Foreign  Missions  is  to  meet  during  the  session  of 
the  Conference  in  March.  Will  it  be  necessary  for  me 
to  attend?  If  it  is,  I  shall  try  to  be  present;  and  if  it 
is  not,  I  can  find  employment  enough  at  home.  As  the 
President  of  the  Domestic  Board,  I  have  been  trying  to 
guard  the  interest  of  the  Foreign  Society  as  well  as  I 
could;  and  yet  I  think  there  are,  some  points  of  diffi- 
culty existing  that  ought  to  be  looked  into,  lest  the 
Domestic  Board  and  domestic  interest,  like  the  lean 
kine.  devour  the  Foreign.  The  old  debt  should  be  paid, 
and  foreign  missions  sustained;  but  no  doubt  you  will 
be  able  to  manage  these  matters  without  my  assist- 
ance. 

I  am  glad  to  find  that  your  paper  is  doing  so  well.  I 
have  never  failed  to  recommend  it  wherever  I  have 
been,  and  I  think  it  will  ultimately  obtain  a  wide  cir- 
culation in  this  country;  it  will  grow  and  prosper. 
The  fact  that  it  commenced  under  circumstances  which 
made  economy  and  great  prudence  necessary,  in  order 
*  Correspondence  of  the  Baltimore  Episcopal  Methodisi. 


492  THE   CHURCH   INTERESTS. 

that  it  should  sustain  itself,  will  in  the  end  result  in  its 
favor;  if  it  can  travel  so  rough  a  path  in  its  infancy, 
what  will  it  be  able  to  do  when  it  shall  have  gathered 
strength,  and  its  way  shall  become  smooth  ?  At  present 
the  South  (the  whole  South)  is  struggling  with  difficul- 
ties; and  as  men  can  live  without  a  newspaper,  but 
cannot  live  without  bread,  thousands  are  surely  wait- 
ing until  they  shall  be  able  to  enjoy  health. 

It  is  truly  gratifying  to  see  that,  notwithstanding  the 
terrible  pressure  that  is  upon  the  country,  churches  are 
being  built  and  repaired,  the  Publishing  House  is  more 
than  sustaining  itself,  old  debts  are  being  paid,  Sab- 
bath-schools are  prospering,  and  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands are  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  poor,  persecuted 
Church  for  admission ;  and  while  many  of  the  preachers 
on  circuits  cannot  find  among  their  friends  the  food  to 
feed  their  horses,  they  have  given  up  riding,  and  are 
walking  round  their  circuits  with  a  clean  collar,  and  a 
Bible  and  hymn-book  in  their  pockets — and  the  sound 
of  their  Master's  feet  is  heard  behind  them.  The  trial 
through  which  we  are  passing  is  dreadfully  fiery;  but 
we  are  passing  through  it,  thank  God!  There  is  less 
complaining  and  better  work  done  than  when  the  straw 
was  supplied.  Every  day  is  furnishing  history,  upon 
which  coming  generations  will  look  with  astonishment. 
The  days  of  the  martyrs  have  come  again;  every  man 
seems  to  feel  his  responsibility.  Our  Bishops  are  work- 
ing as  they  never  worked  before. 

The  acts  of  our  last  General  Conference  were  just 
what  we  needed,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  believe  that  the 
two  measures  now  before  the  Annual  Conferences  will 
be  carried.  Were  the  vote  on  the  change  of  name  to 
be  taken  over  again  in  the  Tennessee  Conference,  I  do 
not  think  there  would  be  one-half  dozen  against  it. 


CONFERENCE   AND   MISSIONS.  493 

The  brethren  were  influenced  by  a  false  fear  of  evil 
consequences — no  matter  what. 

Give  my  kindest  regards  to  Dr.  Sehon,  Dr.  Bond,  and 
anybody  you  please.  God  bless  you  and  the  paper,  and 
all  the  interests  of  the  Church!  i867. 


CONFERENCE  AND  MISSIONS.* 

ON  leaving  for  the  Baltimore  Conference,  or  rather 
the  meeting  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  I  prom- 
ised to  write  to  you;  and  as  letter-writing  seems  to  be 
one  of  the  fashions  of  the  day,  I  have  resolved  to  try 
my  hand.  I  left  Xashville,  accompanied  by  Dr.  Mc- 
Ferrin,  on  the  evening  train,  and  had  to  pass  the  night 
on  the  cars.  There  was  a  sleeper  attached;  but  sleep- 
ing-cars are  a  failure  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  They 
always  beget  a  feeling  of  confinement  which  makes  it 
impossible  for  me  to  rest  or  sleep;  so  that  I  have  aban- 
doned them  altogether.  The  seats  in  the  regular  pas- 
senger-car are  not  intended  for  a  bed ;  they  will  do  very 
well  to  sit  on ;  but  for  a  man  of  my  size  to  attempt  to 
lie  on  them  is  not  to  be  thought  of;  the  hard  corners 
and  sharp  edges  are  constantly  disturbing  my  peace, 
and  I  am  too  large  to  be  tied  up  and  stowed  away  in  so 
small  a  space. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  make  a  night  on  a  rail- 
road train  either  profitable  or  comfortable.  Even  my 
senses  are  of  very  little  service  to  me;  I  cannot  see 
well  enough  to  make  my  eyes  useful,  and  the  noise  of 
the  train  renders  my  ears  equally  useless,  while  my 
thoughts  are  confused  by  the  jarring,  quivering  mo- 
tion; so  that  at  night  I  am  in  a  state  of  mental  nonen- 

*  Correspondence  of  tlic  Nashville  C/iristiuii  Advocate, 


494  CONFERENCE   AND    MISSIONS. 

tity,  or  waking  nightmare;  and  the  snoring  of  fat  men 
and  the  crying  of  children  have  a  wasting,  wearing 
effect  on  my  patience.  During  the  day  I  have  found  it 
no  easy  matter  to  employ  my  time  profitably.  I  cannot 
read  with  comfort,  as  the  motion  is  so  tremulous  that  it 
requires  an  effort  when  I  end  one  line  to  find  the  begin- 
ning of  the  next;  and  constantly  thinking  that  an 
exertion  of  this  kind  involves  a  danger  of  irritating 
the  nervous  centers  makes  reading  more  laborious  than 
pleasant.  Talking  is  also  difficult;  if  I  begin  when  all 
is  still,  as  soon  as  we  get  in  motion  I  find  that  I  am 
talking  in  too  low  a  key,  and  have  to  use  a  kind  of 
mental  pitch-pipe  to  raise  the  tone  of  voice,  or  talk 
sharp  on  a  flat,  which  would  soon  wear  out  any  pair  of 
lungs.  If  I  commence  conversation  when  under  way, 
just  as  soon  as  we  stop  I  find  myself  talking  too  loud, 
and  have  to  come  down,  which  is  difficult  to  do  without 
destroying  the  effect  of  what  is  said.  If  I  become  list- 
ener, the  difficulty  seems  to  increase;  not  being  able  to 
hear  distinctly,  I  do  not  know  when  to  say, "  To  be  sure !" 
"You  don't  say  so!"  "Is  it  possible?"  and  I  never  did 
like  to  say  continually,  "I  do  n't  understand  you;"  and 
to  see  a  man's  lips  moving,  and  his  head  nodding  and 
shaking,  and  gesticulating  and  pointing  with  his  hands, 
and  not  be  able  to  hear  what  he  is  saying,  is  to  me  most 
ludicrous.  If  I  get  to  a  window  to  look  out  at  the 
country,  I  can  see  only  on  one  side,  and  that  very  im- 
perfectly. When  the  train  approaches  an  elevation, 
from  which  a  good  view  could  be  obtained,  we  are  sud- 
denly plunged  into  a  cut,  and  cannot  see  any  thing  at  all ; 
when  we  pass  through  a  valley,  the  hills  obstruct  the 
view,  and  the  rapid  motion  will  not  allow  the  objects 
within  range  of  vision  to  be  seen  to  advantage.  A  con- 
sideration of  all  these  circumstances  impels  me  to  say, 


CONFERENCE   AND   MISSIONS. 

emphatically,  that  the  only  benefit  to  be  derived  from 
traveling  by  rail  is  that  you  soon  arrive  at  your  desti- 
nation. Give  me  a  steam-boat  or  a  buggy,  always! 

When  we  reached  Abingdon  Dr.  McFerrin  left  me, 
as  he  had  made  an  appointment  at  that  place  for  the 
Sabbath ;  but  I  was  afraid  to  stop,  lest  I  should  be  too 
late  for  my  engagement  at  Baltimore.  Although  the 
cars  were  well  filled  with  passengers,  I  was  now  alone, 
as  I  generally  fail  to  make  acquaintances  while  travel- 
ing. When  I  set  out  to  travel  with  company,  my  ar- 
rangements embrace  them  only,  and  I  have  no  disposi- 
tion to  add  to  or  diminish  their  number.  It  sometimes 
happens  that  something  very  amusing  may  be  seen  on  a 
train.  I  frequently  see  persons  who  are  in  constant  fear 
that  the  train  will  carry  them  past  the  place  at  which 
they  wish  to  stop,  as  they  know  nothing  more  than 
the  name  of  the  station.  On  this  trip  I  saw  one  man 
who  sprang  to  his  feet  several  times,  when  the  whistle 
blew,  and,  gathering  up  his  bundle,  wildly  inquired, 
"What place  is  this?"  The  brakeman,  who  forces  open 
the  door  and  cries  out  the  names  of  stations,  speaks 
the  words  in  such  a  way  that  I  seldom  know  what  he 
says.  My  anxious  friend  was  all  attention,  and  was 
never  satisfied  until  he  could  learn  the  name  of  the 
place.  He  would  then  say,  "That's  not  it,"  and  again 
take  his  seat.  At  one  time  when  the  whistle  blew,  and 
the  brakeman  shouted  out  something,  no  one  could  tell 
what,  my  friend  snatched  up  his  bundle,  saying,  "What 
place  did  he  say  it  is?"  I  replied  that  I  did  not  under- 
stand him.  By  this  time  we  were  again  in  motion,  and 
the  conductor  came  reeling  by  in  hot  haste  after  the 
fare  of  an  old  lady  who  had  just  come  on  board.  My 
friend  plucked  him,  asking,  "What  place  is  this?"  The 
conductor  did  not  stop,  nor  even  look  back,  but  hastily 


496  CONFERENCE   AND   MISSIONS. 

said,  "Mossy  Creek."  "That's  not  it,"  said  the  man. 
A  lad  came  by,  and  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  saying,  "I 
thought  the  brakeman  said,  'Mollie's  feet!'1'  The  fact 
is,  conductors  are  so  much  worried  with  questions  that 
they  will  not  stop  to  talk  to  a  man  unless  he  appears  to 
be  a  person  of  importance. 

The  brave  engine-reinsman  held  the  flaming,  metal- 
lic steed  to  the  track,  and  over  the  plains,  through  the 
tangled  forests,  across  the  streams,  and  among  the  sul- 
len rocks  and  everlasting  hills,  we  went  rattling,  whirl- 
ing, smoking,  snorting,  and  shouting  defiantly,  by  day 
and  by  night,  and  in  about  fifty  hours  halted  at  Wash- 
ington City,  where  I  rested  for  the  night.  The  next 
day  was  the  holy  Sabbath,  and  soon  after  breakfast  I 
went  in  search  of  a  Southern  Methodist  Church,  which 
I  very  soon  found.  The  Sunday-school  had  not  yet 
opened,  though  the  children  were  collecting.  I  asked 
a  lad,  "What  church  is  this?"  "It  belongs  to  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,"  was  the  answer. 
"Who  is  your  preacher?"  "Mr.  Tudor,"  said  he,  "and 
he  is  the  best  preacher  in  the  city."  It  was  not  long 
before  Mr.  Tudor  made  his  appearance,  and  it  was  truly 
gratifying  to  see  with  what  pleasure  all  eyes  turned 
upon  him.  He  seemed  to  be  perfectly  at  home,  and  was 
master  of  the  situation.  At  eleven  o'clock  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  listening  to  a  sermon  preached  by  the  Eev. 
S.  Keppler,  who  is  a  well-sustained,  elegant  Christian 
gentleman,  and  is  an  honor  to  his  calling — a  fine  speci- 
men of  a  man  and  Christian  minister.  There  was  an 
appointment  for  me  at  night,  but  I  was  so  hoarse  from 
cold  I  could  not  speak.  The  pastor,  Mr.  Tudor,  took 
my  place,  and  did  his  work  well.  In  person,  expres- 
sion, manner,  voice,  mind,  and  no  doubt  feeling,  he -is  a 
striking  likeness  of  the  now  sainted  Baldwin. 


CONFERENCE   AND   MISSIONS.  497 

On  the  next  morning  I  visited  the  White  House,  and 
had  a  pleasant  interview  with  President  Johnson.  I 
found  him  in  good  health,  and  as  far  as  I  could  see,  in 
good  spirits.  He  is  hopeful  with  regard  to  the  future 
welfare  of  the  country,  having  confidence  in  the  good 
sense  and  integrity  of  the  people.  It  was  a  treat  to 
find  a  man  with  so  much  confidence  in  the  people,  when 
I  had  been  thinking  that  they  had  brought  the  coun- 
try into  the  trouble  of  which  we  complained.  In  the 
evening  I  ran  up  to  Baltimore,  and  was  soon  in  the 
midst  of  friends,  both  of  the  ministry  and  laity. 

In  speaking  of  the  Conference  and  Board  of  Missions, 
and  the  manifestations  of  kindness,  hospitality,  and 
fraternity,  in  both  the  family  circles  and  the  great  con- 
gregation, I  have  not  the  least  fear  of  overstating  any 
thing.  I  think  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South, 
appreciates  the  course  taken  by  the  Baltimore  Confer- 
ence in  connecting  her  destiny  with  the  Southern 
Church.  It  seems  to  me  there  was  in  their  act  a  re- 
markable freedom  from  worldly -mindedness,  selfish- 
ness, and  all  the  sordid  tendencies  of  human  nature. 
They  came  to  us  in  the  day  of  our  calamity.  It  is  not 
common  for  persons  to  quit  their  rich  relations,  and  go 
and  knock  at  the  door  of  their  poor  kin,  and  ask  to  live 
with  them  in  their  poverty.  The  Baltimore  Confer- 
ence did  not  come  to  us  on  account  of  the  greatness  of 
our  numbers,  the  richness  of  our  membership,  the  ex- 
tensiveness  of  our  publishing  interests,  or  the  fatness 
of  our  treasury;  they  came  to  us  when  we  seemed  to 
be  in  ruins,  scattered,  peeled,  and  wasted  in  substance, 
and  persecuted  by  the  strong.  They  came  from  prin- 
ciple; it  shows  itself  in  every  act;  you  cannot  find  a 
mean-looking  man  in  the  whole  body;  they  can  look 
you  in  the  eye  and  talk  of  right,  conscience,  principle; 


498  CONFERENCE   AND   MISSIONS.  ' 

and  yet  they  came  so  meekly,  so  quietly,  asking  no  ova- 
tion, no  office,  no  distinction.  That  God  who  regards  the 
right  is  evidently  with  them.  Neither  was  it  a  youth- 
ful freak  of  wild  adventure;  they  are  men  of  age,  of 
mark,  of  usefulness,  who  would  be  an  ornament  in  any 
society,  and  worthy  of  any  pulpits  in  America.  They 
deserve  honor,  and  they  have  it. 

The  business  of  the  Board  was  well  attended  to;  all 
the  distant  members  were  present — Drs.  Deems,  Head, 
and  Cunnyngham — and  it  was  pleasant  to  see  with  what 
interest  and  earnestness  they  entered  upon  the  work 
before  them. 

As  to  the  Conference,  you  have  full  information. 
Some  of  the  popular  meetings  held  during  the  session 
were  occasions  of  remarkable  interest.  The  Sunday- 
school  gatherings  at  the  Central  and  Trinity  Churches 
were  transcendent.  Dr.  Roszell  and  Dr.  Hall  were 
happy  men.  On  Sunday,  at  3  P.M.,  Dr.  Eoszell  saw  the 
lambs  of  his  flock  gathered  together,  and  was  justly 
proud  of  them;  his  great,  generous  heart  swelled  and 
throbbed  with  pleasure,  and  every  expression  of  his 
manly  face  spoke  forth  his  inward  joy.  At  Trinity,  on 
Tuesday  night,  Dr.  Hall  gathered  up  his  strength  in 
the  Sunday-school  department,  with  the  devices  of  each 
class  and  their  offerings  for  the  promotion  of  missions 
and  Sunday-schools  in  the  poor  and  laboring  Church  in 
the  South,  which  amounted  to  something  more  than 
one  thousand  dollars.  In  the  vast  witnessing  assembly 
every  heart  was  moved,  every  soul  inspired,  and  all 
talked  poetry.  Bishop  Wightman  seemed  to  stand  on 
air,  and  the  words  fell  from  his  lips  with  a  strange 
sweetness.  Dr.  Sargent  will  never  be  as  happy  again 
till  he  gets  to  heaven ;  to  his  poetry  there  seemed  to  be 
no  end.  It  was  an  occasion  which  I  think  I  shall  never 


CONFERENCE   AND   MISSIONS.  499 

forget.  I  saw  class  after  class  with  their  offerings  be- 
fore the  Lord ;  but  the  most  tender  and  delicate  chords 
of  my  nature  were  never  struck  till  the  infant-class 
appeared;  they  were  as  clean  and  neat  as  freshly-pol- 
ished stars  on  a  frosty  night,  and  their  faces  glowed 
with  pleasure;  their  eyes  so  dazzled  with  joy  that  they 
really  seemed  to  give  out  light;  and  then  there  came 
sweeping  over  the  waste  of  eighteen  hundred  years  the 
words  of  the  Master,  saying,  "Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not."  I  looked  for 
something  in  nature  with  which  to  compare  these  chil- 
dren, and  thought  of  the  cactus  grandiflora,  or  night- 
blooming  cereus — the  bloom  of  which  is  too  tender  and 
delicate  to  encounter  the  warm  sunshine  and  dry, 
parching  winds  of  noonday,  and  only  comes  forth  to  be 
looked  upon  by  the  pale  light  of  stars,  and  to  receive 
the  soft  kiss  of  the  air  when  it  is  mild  and  subdued  and 
made  sweet  by  the  dew  of  night — but  there  was  too 
little  life  and  motion  in  these.  I  then  thought  of  some 
gentle,  harmless  insect,  with  its  polished  crown,  its 
gilded  wings,  and  velvet  robe,  which  had  taken  a  deli- 
cate morsel  for  its  supper,  and  folded  its  wings,  and  se- 
lected as  its  chamber  of  repose  the  highly-adorned  cup 
of  the  drooping  fuchsia,  and  was  rocked  to  sleep  by  the 
light  breath  of  evening,  perfumed  by  the  odor  of  a  thou- 
sand flowers,  and  arose  the  next  morning  and  washed 
its  face  and  hands  in  a  drop  of  dew;  but  that  would 
not  do,  and  I  dashed  it  aside  and  thought  of  heaven, 
because  every  thing  else  was  far  below. 

The  Conference  missionary  meeting  and  Sunday- 
school  anniversaries  were  all  successful;  yet  it  may  bo 
that  I  am  like  the  boy  who  had  just  returned  from  a 
quarterly-meeting,  and  being  questioned  with  regard 
to  the  kind  of  meeting  they  had,  said,  "First-rate;  we 


500 

had  the  nicest  kind  of  weather,  and  I  had  a  mighty  good 
place  to  stay." 

I  think  I  may  safely  say  that  the  Methodist  Church, 
South,  in  all  her  interests,  is  growing  and  strengthen- 
ing in  Maryland.  The  preachers  were  nearly  all  pres- 
ent, and,  as  far  as  I  know,  enjoyed  good  health,  having 
suffered  no  loss  by  death  or  confirmed  affliction  during 
the  year.  They  were  well  dressed,  and  gave  evidence 
that  they  had  been  among  their  friends.  The  next  ses- 
sion of  the  Conference  will  be  held  at  Trinity  Church, 
which  is  falling  into  line,  and  promises  to  be  a  power  in 
the  Church  for  usefulness.  There  is  to  the  South  gen- 
erally, and  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South, 
especially,  something  in  the  words  Maryland  and  Balti- 
more that  makes  the  action  of  the  heart  quicken  with 
emotions  of  gratitude.  I  must  say  that  as  far  as  I  can 
see  in  the  Church,  there  is  an  evident  spirit  prompt- 
ing both  ministry  and  laity  to  increased  labor  and 
sacrifice. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  close  without  saying  that  there 
is  a  genuine  conviction  among  our  people  that  the 
Church  has  made  no  mistake  in  the  selection  of  men 
for  the  episcopal  office,  and  that  our  Bishops  are, 'in 
labors,  sacrifices,  and  usefulness,  noble  examples  to  the 
rest  of  the  ministry. 


THE  CHURCH,  NORTH  AND  SOUTH. 

HAVING  seen,  from  time  to  time,  various  articles  in 
your  paper  concerning  the  difficulties  in  the  Church  in 
East  Tennessee,  growing  out  of  the  persecutions  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  by  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  North;  and  having  spent  some  time 


THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND   SOUTH.  501 

in  the  bounds  of  the  Holston  Conference,  which  em- 
braces the  section  of  country  where  the  troubles  com- 
plained of  have  chiefly  occurred;  and  not  being  mixed 
up  with  the  contention  and  strife  in  any  way,  it  has 
occurred  to  me  that  I  might  state  some  facts  with  re- 
gard to  this  matter  that  would  enlighten  your  readers. 
But  it  will  first  be  necessary  to  make  some  general 
statements;  for  there  are  other  sections  of  the  country 
where  kindred  troubles  exist,  all  having  as  a  founda- 
tion the  same  class  of  errors.  It  will  be  understood 
by  the  reader  that  these  difficulties  and  disagreements 
are  found  between  two  branches  of  the  Methodist 
Church — the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  North,  and 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South — and  in  this 
article  I  shall  use  the  words  "North"  and  "South"  as 
distinguishing  terms  for  the  purpose  of  brevity.  I  am 
in  some  respects  better  prepared  to  write  on  this  sub- 
ject than  many  others.  In  the  first  place,  I  am  in  a 
good  humor — have  not  been  insulted  and  irritated;  and 
in  the  next  place,  I  have  occupied  a  position  which  has 
enabled  me  to  make  myself  familiar  with  all  the  facts, 
changes,  and  phases  connected  with  the  subject,  from 
the  beginning  of  the  dispute  up  to  this  hour,  and  I 
write  this  article  simply  because  it  seems  no  one  else 
will  do  it,  and  trust  I  am  prompted  by  a  good  motive, 
which  is,  that  all  may  know  the  facts  as  they  are.  It 
will  be  no  part  of  my  work  to  abuse  any  one,  or  call 
hard  names — far  from  it.  I  am  for  peace,  and  wish  to 
promote  the  cause  of  God  and  our  common  Methodism, 
and  if  the  reader  will  receive  it  in  the  spirit  in  which 
it  is  written,  it  will  do  him  good. 

In  order  to  understand  the  true  nature  of  the  present 
difficulty  between  the  Church,  North  and  South,  wo 
must  carry  the  reader  back  to  the  beginning  of  those 


502  THE  CHURCH,   NORTH   AND   SOUTH. 

troubles.  This  is  the  more  necessary  from  the  fact 
that  the  Church,  South,  is  called  a  rebel  Church,  a  se- 
cession Church,  a  disloyal  Church;  while  the  Church, 
North,  claims  to  be  the  mother  Church,  the  old  Church, 
the  loyal  Church.  Now,  if  these  representations  were 
true,  then  it  would  be  right  for  honest  men  to  make 
use  of  the  facts  in  promoting  the  interests  of  the 
Church,  North;  but  if  these  distinctions  do  not  exist  in 
fact,  they  cannot  be  pleaded  for  or  against,  as  the  case 
may  be.  This  will  carry  us  back  to  the  General  Con- 
ference of  1844.  I  shall  merely  state  the  great  leading 
facts.  This  General  Conference  consisted  of  some- 
thing over  two  hundred  delegates.  The  South  had 
fifty-two,  and  the  North  about  one  hundred  and  fifty; 
this  was  not  only  a  majority  of  two-thirds,  but  nearly 
three-fourths.  So  you  will  see  at  a  glance  that  the 
North  had  the  power  to  do  just  any  thing  it  wished, 
without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  the  speeches 
or  votes  of  the  South.  I  entreat  you  not  to  forget  this 
fact. 

The  North  wished  to  depose  Bishop  Andrew  because 
he  was  connected  with  slavery — not  because  he  was 
acting  in  violation  of  the  law  of  God  or  of  the  Church, 
but  because  a  large  portion  of  the  membership  of  the 
Church  in  the  Northern  States  believed  slavery  was 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  and  as  our  epis- 
copacy was  a  unit,  and  a  Bishop  was  a  universal  pastor 
of  the  Church,  and  Bishop  Andrew,  as  Bishop,  be- 
longed as  much  to  the  Church  in  the  Northern  as  in 
the  Southern  States,  and  the  Northern  Methodists  would 
not  receive  him  as  Bishop,  and  as  it  was  not  expedient 
that  he  be  continued  as  Bishop,  he  must  be  deposed. 
Now,  mark  well — the  South  went  for  the  Discipline  of 
the  Church  as  it  was,  and  with  the  Discipline  and  law 


THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND   SOUTH.  503 

of  the  Church  in  its  hands  entered  on  the  defense  of 
Bishop  Andrew.  The  North  went  outside  of  the  Dis- 
cipline and  law  of  the  Church,  substituting  instead 
thereof  expediency  as  their  law,  and  deposed  Bishop 
Andrew.  Now,  here  was  where  the  first  crack  was 
made  and  the  split  began;  and  I  shall  leave  the  reader 
to  determine  who  did  the  slabbing.  The  South  asked 
for  no  law  of  expediency;  so  that  if  there  must  be  a 
secession,  who  seceded?  Not  the  South — they  asked 
for  no  change,  wanted  none.  If  you  are  a  candid  man 
and  disposed  to  tell  the  truth,  and  still  will  have  it  that 
somebody  seceded,  you  must  be  compelled  to  acknowl- 
edge that  the  North  seceded,  and  that  that  is  the  rebel 
Church,  so  far  as  disloyalty  to  Methodism  is  con- 
cerned. 

When  the  General  Conference  took  action  and  de- 
posed Bishop  Andrew,  all  that  the  Southern  delegates 
could  do  was  to  enter  a  protest  against  the  action  of 
the  Conference;  they  were  powerless  in  the  hands  of 
the  majority.  But  did  not  the  Southern  delegates  di- 
vide the  Church?  How  could  they  divide  the  Church? 
They  could  have  taken  up  their  hats  and  come  home, 
but  that  would  not  have  divided  the  Church.  Just  at 
this  point  I  wish  the  reader  to  mark  well  the  step 
taken ;  and  what  I  say  is  not  taken  from  any  history, 
but  is  asserted  from  what  I  saw  and  heard,  being  there. 
The  first  man  I  heard  mention  the  word  division  was 
the  Eev.  Mr.  Eaper,  of  Ohio,  who  took  me  out  and  told 
me  that  we  would  have  to  divide — belabored  mo  for 
some  time  on  the  subject.  The  next  man  that  made 
an  argument  to  me  on  the  subject  was  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Elliott.  This  was  after  the  matter  had  been  suggested 
by  a  number  of  Northern  ministers,  and  after  I  had 
made  a  speech  on  the  Conference-floor  against  division, 


504  THE   CHURCH,   NORTH    AND   SOUTH. 

a  synopsis  of  which  is  to  bo  found  in  the  published 
records  of  that  Conference.  Dr.  Elliott  came  to  my 
room,  as  I  supposed,  by  appointment  from  among  his 
Northern  brethren,  to  induce  me  to  consent  to  a  divis- 
ion. He  stayed  with  mo  all  night;  lay  upon  my  bed, 
by  my  side;  brought  up  many  arguments  in  favor  of 
division,  some  of  which  I  remember  to  this  hour.  He 
said  the  subject  of  slavery  would  continue  to  agitate 
us  while  together,  but  if  divided,  the  agitation  would 
cease;  that  where  a  family  could  not  agree  they  had 
better  separate,  and  merely  visit  each  other  occasion- 
ally; and  that  more  fraternity  and  good  feeling  would 
exist  between  us,  when  sepai'ated,  than  if  we  were  to 
continue  together  and  keep  wrangling  all  the  time  on 
the  subject  of  slavery.  When  I  told  him  I  was  afraid 
of  the  consequences,  he  directed  me  to  the  Canada 
Church,  saying  that  they  pi-ospered  more  since  separa- 
tion than  before.  But  his  main  argument  was  the  ex- 
tent of  territory — that  we  were  covering  too  much  sur- 
face, and  the  representation  would  soon  be  so  great 
in  a  few  years  that  no  General  Conference  could  be 
accommodated. 

At  length  the  South  agreed  that  a  committee  should 
be  appointed  to  see  whether  a  plan  could  be  made  for 
an  equitable  division  of  the  Church;  and  who  ap- 
pointed that  committee?  The  Northern  preachers,  for 
the  Southern  had  no  power  to  do  any  thing  of  them- 
selves. The  committee  agreed  on  a  plan,  submitted  it 
to  the  Conference,  and  it  was  adopted.  Now,  I  ask  the 
candid  reader,  Who  divided  the  Church?  The  North- 
ern majority  performed  the  act  that  suggested  the  ne- 
cessity; the  Northern  majority  carried  out  the  sugges- 
tion. I  suppose  I  need  not  go  any  farther  to  prove 
that  the  Southern  Church  is  not  a  secession;  far  from 


THE    CHURCH,    NORTH    AND    SOUTH.  505 

it.  Wo  are  within  the  old  landmarks,  cabling  the  old 
ship  to  the  stakes  driven  by  Asbury  and  McKendree. 

A  few  words  with  respect  to  the  old  Church,  mother 
Church.  Who  planted  Methodism  in  New  England? 
It  was  a  Southern  preacher.  Who  established  Meth- 
odism in  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois?  It  was  Southern 
preachers.  And  if  you  should  be  governed  by  the  map 
of  the  country,  and  age  of  the  Church  in  each  division, 
you  will  soon  find  that  the  old  Church  is  in  the  South. 
It  must  be  a  bad  cause  that  would  seek  to  prop  itself 
by  any  such  flummery  as  that  the  Church,  North,  is 
the  old  Church,  the  mother  Church;  for  every  well- 
informed  Methodist  must  know  that  one  of  two  things 
is  true:  that  the  person  who  makes  such  representa- 
tions is  either  ignorant  or  willfully  falsifies. 

Now  as  to  the  loyalty  of  the  Church.  If  by  loyalty 
we  are  to  understand  being  true  to  Methodism,  the  South 
claims  the  preference;  if  it  means  fealty  to  the  Gov- 
ernment, all  that  is  necessary  on  the  subject  is  to  refer 
them  to  our  Discipline  and  Articles  of  Faith;  they  are 
the  same  now  that  they  were  before  the  war,  and  were 
the  same  during  the  war — they  were  never  changed. 
Other  denominations,  whose  services  consist  mainly  in 
written  forms,  made  changes;  but  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  South,  made  no  change;  so  that  in  a  po- 
litical point  of  view  no  charge  can  be  made  against 
that  Church  on  the  score  of  loyalty. 

The  next  point  of  interest  is  on  the  question  of 
Church-property.  The  General  Conference  of  1844,  to 
which  so  much  reference  has  already  been  made,  did 
make  out  a  "Plan  of  Separation"  of  the  Church,  fix- 
ing on  a  line  that  should  be  regarded  as  the  dividing- 
line  between  the  two  coordinate  branches  of  the 
Church :  all  of  the  churches,  school-houses,  parsonages, 
22 


506  THE   CIIU11CII,   NORTH   AND    SOUTH. 

and  cemeteries  south  of  that  line  were  to  belong  to  the 
Southern  Church,  and  all  north  of  it  to  the  Northern. 
This  the  General  Conference  had  a  right  to  do.  But 
there  was  a  certain  interest  which  had  been  held  in 
common  by  the  Church — the  Book  Concern  and  Char- 
tered Fund.  According  to  the  line  of  geographical  di- 
vision this  interest  fell  within  the  line  of  the  Northern 
Church,  and  b}^  that  same  "Plan  of  Separation,"  or 
contract,  or  articles  of  agreement  between  the  parties, 
the  Church,  North,  was  to  pay  over  to  the  Church, 
South,  her^ro  rata  according  to  the  respective  number 
of  traveling  preachers,  as  this  interest  was  regarded  as 
the  property  of  the  ministry.  The  Church,  South, 
without  delay,  threw  itself  into  a  properly  organized 
condition,  and  appointed  an  agent  to  receive  the 
amount  due  to  the  South,  and  a  formal  application  was 
made;  but  the  agent  of  the  Northern  Church  refused 
to  pay  over  the  amount,  on  the  ground  that  the  Re- 
strictive Article  had  not  been  removed,  which  prohib- 
its the  agents  of  these  interests  from  paying  over  the 
proceeds  to  any  save  the  traveling  preachers,  and  the 
widows  and  orphans  of  traveling  preachers.  It  was 
pleaded  by  the  preachers  from  the  South,  when  the 
General  Conference  of  1844  proposed  to  send  the  ques- 
tion around  to  the  Conferences,  that  they  might,  by  a 
three-fourths  vote,  remove  the  restriction;  the  South- 
ern delegates  said  that  it  was  unnecessary,  as  we  were 
not  creating  any  new  object  of  appropriation.  This 
view  was  assented  to,  but  the  Northern  delegates  said 
they  wanted  the  restriction  taken  off  for  other  pur- 
poses, and  the  question  was  sent  around,  and  failed  by 
some  eight  or  ten  votes,  though  some  of  the  Northern 
Conferences  refused  to  act  at  all  in  the  matter.  But  of 
those  Confcrenceswhich  did  act  the  vote  fell  a  little  short 


THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND   SOUTH.  507 

of  three-fourths.  This  the  agent  of  the  Church,  North, 
with  his  commissioners,  regarded  as  a  bar  to  their  pay- 
ing over  the  amount  due  to  the  South  under  the  con- 
tract. 

So  things  continued  until  the  meeting  of  the  Gen- 
eral Conference  of  the  Church,  North,  in  1848.  This 
Conference  decided  that  the  General  Conference  of  1844 
had  no  right  or  power  to  make  any  such  contract,  and 
pronounced  the  whole  act  void. 

The  Church,  South,  brought  suit  against  the  agents 
of  the  Church,  North,  for  said  interest,  and  finally 
gained  it  by  the  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States,  on  the  ground  that  the  contract  made 
by  the  Conference  of  1844  was  a  valid  one.  The  valid- 
ity of  this  contract  being  thus  established,  the  right  of 
the  Church,  South,  to  her  property  is  vindicated;  for 
it  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Restrictive  Article 
did  not  lie  against  churches,  parsonages,  etc.;  so  that 
her  right  to  the  property  within  her  limits  was  direct, 
and  without  question  or  embarrassment. 

THE  facts  now  to  be  stated  I  will  not  attempt  to 
prove,  as  I  suppose  they  will  not  be  questioned. 

First.  The  Church,  North,  is  now  in  possession  of 
quite  a  number  of  churches  and  parsonages,  which  be- 
fore the  war  were  the  property  of  the  Church,  South. 

Second.  There  are  a  number  of  persons  who  are 
claimed  and  counted  as  members  of  the  Church,  North, 
who  were  before  the  war  members  of  the  Church, 
South;  and  this  change  in  many  instances  has  been 
brought  about  without  the  act  or  volition  of  said  per- 
sons. And  I  would  farther  state  as  a  fact,  that  the 
preachers  of  the  Church,  North,  are  not  willing  that 
the  preachers  of  the  Church,  South,  should  return  and 


508  THE   CHURCH,   NORTH    AND    SOUTH. 

preach  to  their  former  congregations.  These  facts  we 
take  for  granted. 

It  will  be  our  duty,  in  the  farther  investigation  of 
this  subject,  to  show  how  this  state  of  things  was  pro- 
duced. It  is  due  to  the  Methodists  of  East  Tennessee 
that  I  should  say  that  before  the  war  they  were  as 
true  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  as  far 
as  I  know,  as  other  portions  of  the  Church;  but  at  the 
outbreak  of  the  war  there  was  found  in  this  section  of 
country  a  strong  Union  element,  growing  out  of  the 
fact  that  the  Democrats  were  less  inclined  to  farther 
endure  the  oppressive  course  of  the  North  than  the 
Whigs  were,  and  East  Tennessee  was  a  decided  Whig 
country. 

The  first  movement  that  was  made  which  requires 
particular  notice  here  was  this:  As  the  Confederate 
army  fell  back  and  the  country  was  taken  possession 
of  by  the  Federal  forces,  the  pi-eachers  of  the  Church, 
South,  to  a  considerable  extent,  either  retired  with 
the  Confederate  army  or  quietly  remained  at  home;  so 
that  the  churches  in  many  instances  were  left  without 
pastors.  Now,  the  question  will  arise,  Why  did  the 
preachers  leave  their  flocks?  The  answer  is  this:  The 
Federal  army  occupied  the  city  of  Nashville  and  a 
portion  of  Middle  Tennessee  before  they  took  posses- 
sion of  East  Tennessee,  and  the  Federal  authorities 
arrested  and  sent  off  to  prison  a  considerable  number 
of  the  Methodist  preachers  in  Nashville  and  its  vicin- 
ity, against  whom  no  charges  or  specifications  were 
ever  brought.  This,  as  you  might  suppose,  alarmed 
the  preachers  of  the  Church,  South,  as  they  had  no 
fancy  to  rot  in  prison.  There  came  into  the  country 
with  the  Federal  army  a  number  of  preachers  who  be- 
longed to  the  Church,  North,  and  finding  the  churches 


THE    CHURCH,    NORTH    AND    SOUTH.  509 

without  pastors,  they  proposed  to  take  charge,  saying 
it  was  all  the  same,  that  slavery  would  be  done  away 
with,  and  that,  slavery  being  the  bar  to  union,  now 
the  Churches  would  unite.  This  was  no  doubt  often 
said  in  good  faith,  and  in  this  way  the  people  went 
over  en  masse  in  many  places.  In  some  instances  the 
membership  wished  to  wait  and  see  how  the  war  was 
going  to  terminate  before  they  took  any  action.  In 
such  cases  the  preachers  of  the  Church,  North,  called 
the  military  to  their  aid,  and  took  possession  by  force; 
and  the  preacher  getting  possession  of  the  Church- 
books  and  records,  enrolled  them  all  upon  his  list,  and 
counted  them  as  so  many  members  added  to  the 
Church,  North — stating  always  that  the  Confederacy 
would  be  put  down,  and  that  the  Church,  South,  would 
never  be  allowed  to  reorganize,  and  that  those  who 
wished  to  be  Methodists  would  have  to  belong  to  the 
Church,  North,  as  that  was  the  only  Church — that  is, 
Methodist  Church  —  that  could  survive.  So  matters 
moved  on  till  the  close  of  the  war,  when  the  preachers 
of  the  Church,  South,  began  to  look  up  their  congre- 
gations, houses  of  worship,  parsonages,  etc. 

Now,  you  will  find  that  the  preachers  of  the  Church, 
North,  have  taken  a  different  position.  They  claim  the 
property  that  was  held  by  the  Church  in  common  be- 
fore the  division  in  1844,  because  the  deeds  were  made 
to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  I  will  say,  once 
for  all,  what  right  the  Presbyterian,  Baptist,  or  any 
other  Church,  save  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church, 
may  have  to  the  property  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  South,  I  cannot  determine,  as  their  right, 
if  they  have  any,  has  never  been  tested;  but  the  claim 
on  the  part  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  has 
been  litigated  and  settled,  and  it  is  now  part  of  the 


510  THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND   SOUTH. 

history  and  records  of  the  United  States,  as  well  as  the 
Church,  that  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  (North) 
has  no  right  in  law  or  equity;  so  that  if  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Church,  South,  were  to  die  in  one  day.  some 
other  body  would  have  to  be  found  in  whom  the  prop- 
erty could  vest. 

Where  the  Church,  North,  holds  property  which  has 
been  obtained  by  the  Church,  South,  since  the  division, 
and  is  deeded  to  that  body,  the  Church,  North,  claims 
the  property  on  the  ground  that  the  Church,  South,  is 
a  disloyal  Church,  and  has  forfeited  all  right  to  prop- 
erty or  protection.  Let  us  admit,  for  the  sake  of  argu- 
ment, that  the  Church.  South,  is  disloyal,  and  has  for- 
feited her  right — to  whom  was  she  disloyal?  To  the 
Government  of  the  United  States;  and  to  that  Govern- 
ment the  forfeiture  is  made,  and  not  to  the  Church, 
North;  that  Church  is  not  yet  the  Government,  arid 
cannot  claim  on  the  score  of  disloyalty.  But  the  fact 
is,  as  has  already  been  shown,  that  the  Church,  South, 
is  not  disloyal,  and,  as  a  Church,  never  was;  and  such 
property  as  the  United  States  authorities  took  posses- 
sion of  during  the  war,  as  a  military  necessity,  has  long 
since  been  restored  to  her,  and  in  many  instances  ap- 
propriations have  been  made  for  the  repairing  of  inju- 
ries done  to  such  property  by  the  Government;  though, 
I  believe,  in  some  instances  where  the  members  or 
friends  of  the  Church,  North,  have  been  the  agents  to 
receive  such  appropriations,  instead  of  paying  them 
as  intended  loy  the  Government,  they  have  been  turned 
over  to  the  Church,  North,  to  aid  in  building  for  that 
body.  I  think  the  time  will  come  when  this  matter 
will  be  looked  into. 

There  is  yet  another  aspect  of  this  part  of  our  sub- 
ject. The  Church,  North,  has  appropriated  funds  for 


THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND    SOUTH.  511 

Church-extension,  and  in  some  instances,  I  believe,  the 
following  course  has  been  pursued:  Preachers  of  that 
Church  have  sent  agents  through  the  country  to  look 
up  old  claims  against  Church-property,  and  no  doubt 
often  secured  them  at  a  heavy  discount,  and  then 
brought  suit,  and  obtained  judgment  and  a  decree  to 
sell  the  property  without  the  right  of  redemption;  and 
the  poor  people  worshiping  in  these  churches,  having 
been  wasted  by  the  war,  found  themselves  unable  to 
pay  the  amount  of  the  judgment;  and  thus  churches 
and  school-buildings  have  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 
Church,  North,  by  a  sham  legal  process.  At  other 
times  a  majority  of  the  trustees  of  a  church  have  gone 
over  to  the  Church,  North,  and  carried  the  church 
with  them,  when  all  know,  who  know  any  thing  about 
the  law  of  the  Church,  that  a  man  has  to  be  a  member 
of  the  Church  to  make  him  eligible  to  the  office  of 
trustee,  and  when  he  ceases  to  be  a  member,  his  trust- 
eeship expires;  so  that  a  man  cannot  quit  the  Method- 
ist Episcopal  Church,  South,  and  still  be  a  trustee. 
When  a  member  leaves  the  Church  he  forfeits  member- 
ship, trusteeship,  and  all  right  to  control  the  property 
of  the  Church.  And  yet,  after  all,  the  Church,  North, 
holds  the  property  of  the  Church,  South;  but  how,  I 
will  not  say. 

But  how  do  they  hold  on  to  the  membership  of  the 
Church,  South?  And  shall  I  tell  it  all?  The  preacher 
of  the  Church,  North,  announces  that  he  has  all  the 
names  of  a  certain  society,  and  will  consider  them  all 
members  of  the  loyal  Methodist  Church  unless  there 
are  some  who  wish  to  belong  to  the  rebel  Church — 
meaning  the  Church,  South — stating  at  the  same  time 
that  as  a  loyal  man  he  will  bo  compelled  to  make  pub- 
lic the  names  of  those  who  refuse  to  belong  to  the 


512  THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND    SOUTH. 

loyal  Church;  that  if  the  country  has  enemies  in  our 
midst  the  people  ought  to  know  it,  and  that  those  who 
withdraw  will  do  so  at  their  own  risk;  while  there  are, 
no  doubt,  "lewd  fellows  of  the  baser  sort"  in  almost 
every  neighborhood,  who  do  not  care  for  any  Church, 
but,  being  cowards  at  heart,  wish  to  establish  their 
bravery,  and  they  consider  it  a,  safe  opportunity  to  full 
upon  some  old  preacher  or  Church-member  whose  prin- 
ciples and  religion  are  against  fighting.  Such  sur- 
roundings are  calculated  to  make  men  and  women  who 
love  peace  and  quiet  hesitate,  and  wait  until  these  dif- 
ficulties are  taken  away. 

The  ministers  of  the  Church,  North,  who  are  filling 
the  work  in  the  Holston  Conference  are  not  generally 
men  of  mark — quite  a  number  of  them  were  local 
preachers  before  the  war,  belonging  to  the  Church, 
South;  some  of  whom,  as  I  understand,  had  been  anx- 
ious for  some  time  to  go  into  the  itinerant  work,  but 
from  some  cause  the  Holston  Conference  did  not  find 
it  convenient  to  employ  them;  but  so  soon  as  the 
Church,  North,  took  possession  of  the  country,  the 
door  was  open  to  all,  with  such  a  salary  as  would  of 
itself  be  tempting  to  a  poor  man  struggling  with  mis- 
fortune, and  some  are  uncharitable  enough  to  give  it 
as  their  opinion  that  the  salary  was  the  main  induce- 
ment. 

From  the  best  view  that  I  have  been  able  to  take  of 
the  whole  subject,  I  am  decidedly  of  the  opinion  that 
the  Church,  North,  has  made  a  mistake.  She  is  wast- 
ing her  missionary  funds,  without  adding  to  the  great 
Methodist  family  either  members  or  piety;  for  almost 
the  entire  membership  now  claimed  in  East  Tennessee, 
or  within  the  bounds  of  the  Holston  Conference,  were 
members  of  the  Church,  South,  and  would  have  con- 


THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND   SOUTH.  513 

tinued  so  if  they  had  been  let  alone;  and  the  conten- 
tion between  the  two  Churches  is  taken  hold  of  by  the 
infidel  world,  and  so  used  as  to  bring  reproach  on  the 
cause  of  God  and  our  common  Methodism.  If  the 
Church,  North,  had  used  her  treasure  and  labor  in  cul- 
tivating such  fields  as  cannot  be  reached  by  the  Church, 
South,  the  cause  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  souls 
would  have  been  the  result;  and  I  cannot  but  believe  if 
the  Missionary  Board  of  the  Church,  North,  fully  under- 
stood the  working  of  this  measure,  they  would  waste  no 
more  money  in  sending  preachers  down  South  to  take, 
as  by  violence,  the  houses  of  worship  and  members  of 
the  Church,  South.  Let  me  say,  that  in  my  opinion 
there  will  be  in  the  proceeding  of  the  Church,  North, 
in  thus  trying  to  cripple  and  break  up  the  Church, 
South,  nothing  accumulating  except  disappointment, 
shame,  and  ultimate  infamy;  virtue,  morality,  and  re- 
ligion will  sustain  loss  and  damage,  and  the  Church, 
North,  lose  caste  and  character.  The  gospel  is  preached 
to  but  a  small  portion  of  the  human  race;  and  here  let 
me  ask  the  ruling  spirits  of  the  Church,  North,  Why 
do  you  not  turn  your  extra  funds  and  labor  to  the 
waste  places  of  the  earth,  where  a  rich  harvest  of  souls 
may  be  gathered  in,  God's  name  glorified,  and  Method- 
ism honored? 

The  interest  of  the  Church,  South,  is  in  the  hearts 
of  the  Southern  people,  and  the  prospects  of  the  Church 
are  this  day  more  promising  than  ever  before.  She  is 
being  purified  as  by  fire,  and  being  made  perfect 
through  suifering.  "  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  re- 
vile you,  and  persecute  you,  and  shall  say  all  manner  of 
evil  against  you  falsely  for  my  sake.  Eejoice  and 
be  exceeding  glad,  for  great  is  your  reward  in  heaven." 
Seek  peace,  and  pursue  it. 
22* 


514  THE  CHURCH,   NORTH   AND  SOUTH. 

THE  preachers  of  the  Northern  Church — at  least,  some 
of  them — say  that  the  Southern  delegates  in  the  Gen- 
eral Conference  procured  the  division  of  the  Church  by 
false  pretenses;  that  the  ministry  and  membership  of 
the  Church,  South,  were  never  consulted  in  the  matter. 
Now.  that  the  reader  may  understand  this  subject  in  all 
its  phases,  we  will  state  a  few  facts,  after  having  shown 
clearly  where  the  division  was  begun,  and  by  whom. 

The  necessity  was  created  by  the  violent  and  unlaw- 
ful action  of  the  Northern  preachers  in  the  course 
taken  by  them  in  the  case  of  Bishop  Andrew;  and  they 
then  recommended  division  as  the  best  that  could  be 
done,  and  satisfied  the  Southern  delegates  of  their  sin- 
cerity by  offering  to  divide  fairly — to  give  to  the  South- 
ern Conferences  all  their  propcrt}*,  in  churches,  par- 
sonages, and  school-houses,  and  agreeing  to  pay  to  ttys 
South  a  pro  rata  of  the  property  of  the  Chartered  Fund 
arid  Book  Concern,  and  fixed  on  a  line  of  division  be- 
tween the  two  coordinate  branches  of  the  Church,  al- 
lowing the  membership  about  said  line  to  adhere  North 
or  South,  as  they  might  desire.  Now,  reader,  do  not 
forget  that  these  measures  were  taken  by  the  Northern 
majority,  the  South  being  in  such  a  minority  that  they 
could  do  nothing  of  themselves. 

Now,  turn  your  attention  to  the  part  that  the  South 
was  to  act  under  the  Plan  which  the  North  made  for 
the  South.  The  Southern  delegates  were  to  go  home 
and  submit  the  Plan  to  the  Southern  Conferences,  and 
if  they  should  approve  it,  the  Plan  would  be  perfected. 
It  was  submitted  to  all  the  Southern  Conferences,  and 
was  approved.  Every  Conference  took  action;  and  of 
the  thousands  of  traveling  preachers  in  the  South,  there 
were  but  three  who  were  present  and  voting  who  voted 
against  the  Plan  ;  and  the  membership,  to  a  very  largo 


THE    CHURCH,    NORTH    AND    SOUTH.  515 

extent,  also  took  action,  and  with  about  the  same  una- 
nimity. So  much,  then,  for  the  truthfulness  of  the  state- 
ment we  sometimes  hear,  that  the  Southern  delegates 
in  the  General  Conference  of  1844  deceived  their  North- 
ern brethren,  and  pursued  a  course  of  conduct  which 
the  Church  in  the  South  never  approved;  nothing 
could  be  farther  from  the  truth. 

The  Church  in  the  South  approved  the  course  pur- 
sued by  their  delegates,  accepted  the  Plan  of  the  Gen- 
eral Conference,  called  a  convention,  and  appointed 
delegates  to  meet  in  Louisville,  in  May,  1845.  The 
convention  met,  organized  the  Southern  Church,  and 
appointed  a  General  Conference  to  meet  in  Petersburg, 
Virginia,  in  May,  1846.  Delegates  were  duly  elected; 
the  Conference  met,  and  approved  the  Plan  of  the  Gen- 
eral Conference  and  the  action  of  the  convention  at 
Louisville;  appointed  Commissioners,  who  were  au- 
thorized to  settle  with  the  Commissioners  and  Book 
Agents  of  the  Church,  North,  the  undivided  interest  in 
the  Chartered  Fund  and  Book  Concern;  and  a  Book 
Agent  was  also  appointed,  with  authority  to  receive 
the  portion  due  the  South.  Drs.  Bascom,  Latta,  and 
myself,  were  appointed  Commissioners,  and  Dr.  John 
Early  the  Book  Agent. 

A  Fraternal  Messenger  was  also  appointed  by  the 
General  Conference  at  Petersburg,  in  the  person  of  Dr. 
Lovick  Pierce,  who  was  to  attend  the  General  Confer- 
ence of  the  Church,  North,  that  was  to  meet  in  Pitts- 
burg,  May,  1848;  so  that  every  thing  that  was  required 
of  the  South  by  the  Plan  of  Separation  was  done  with 
precision,  without  haste,  and  without  delay.  The  only 
thing  we  did  that  the  Plan  did  not  contemplate  our 
doing  was  th'e  appointing  of  a  Fraternal  Messenger. 
Dr.  Lovick  Pierce  presented  himself  at  Pittsburg  on 


516       THE  CHURCH,  NOKTH  AND  SOUTH. 

the  meeting  of  the  General  Conference  of  the  Church, 
North,  charged  with  the  friendly  greeting  of  the  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church,  South.  I  was  there;  I  saw  it 
all.  Often,  since,  I  could  have  wished  that  I  had  not 
been  there,  or  that  years  would  blot  the  fact  from  my 
memory;  but  it  is  as  fresh  on  my  mind  as  the  transac- 
tions of  yesterday;  and  similar  sad  feelings  seem  to 
come  upon  my  heart  now,  which  so  deeply  affected  me 
when  I  saw  the  brotherly  greetings  and  tokens  of 
friendship,  borne  to  them  by  the  venerable  man  of  God, 
contemptuously  spurned  and  rejected. 

THERE  are  those  of  the  Church,  North,  who  contend 
that  all  the  property  of  the  Church,  South,  belongs  to 
them,  particularly  that  portion  which  was  held  by  tho 
Church  before  the  division.  The  ground  of  their  claim 
is  that  a  false,  unjust,  and  corrupt  decision  was  given  by 
the  Supreme  Court.  The  fact  that  the  Church,  South, 
brought  suit  against  the  Church,  North,  is  generally 
known  as  an  historical  fact;  but  the  circumstances  that 
led  the  Church,  South,  to  appeal  to  the  courts  of  the 
country,  I  think,  are  not  very  well  understood.  That 
the  reader  may  fully  understand  this  subject,  I  will 
give  a  plain  statement  of  the  facts  in  the  case.  The 
Plan  of  Separation  gave  to  the  Church,  South,  her  pro 
rata  according  to  the  number  of  preachers;  and  not- 
withstanding the  Church,  South,  did  precisely  what  the 
Plan  of  Separation  required,  and  while  the  contract 
was  plain  and  easily  understood,  yet  the  authorized 
agents  of  the  Church.  North,  refused  to  pay  over  to  the 
Church,  South,  her  portion,  and  urged  as  a  reason  that 
the  Eestrictive  Article  was  not  removed.  This  was  a 
matter  over  which  the  Church,  South,  had  no  control. 
The  Southern  Conferences  voted  en  masse,  or  unani- 


THE   CHURCH,    NORTH    AND    SOUTH.  517 

mously,  for  the  change,  while  enough  in  the  North 
voted  against  it  to  defeat  it.  The  Church,  South,  con- 
tended, in  the  first  place,  that  there  was  no  necessity 
for  the  change  in  the  article,  as  no  new  object  of  ap- 
propriation was  created;  and,  in  the  next  place,  that 
the  Church,  North,  should  not  take  advantage  of  their 
own  act  to  protect  themselves  from  paying  an  honest 
debt.  But  notwithstanding  the  Agents  and  Commis- 
sioners refused  to  pay  over,  the  Church,  South,  sup- 
posed that  the  General  Conference  of  the  Church, 
North,  which  was  to  meet  in  May,  1848,  in  Pittsburg, 
would  put  the  matter  right;  so  the  Commissioners  of 
the  Church,  South,  Avith  Bishop  Soule,  Dr.  Lovick 
Pierce,  and  Dr.  Lee,  of  Virginia,  together  with  our 
Book  Agent,  attended  the  General  Conference  of  the 
Church,  North,  with  a  view  to  bring  the  whole  ques- 
tion before  that  body.  But  the  General  Conference  of 
the  Church,  North,  would  not  hear  or  would  not  notice 
us  in  any  official  way  whatever;  they  would  neither 
talk  with  us  nor  suffer  us  to  talk  with  them  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  even  shut  us  out  from  their  pulpits;  so  that 
diplomacy  was  at  an  end. 

We  had  organized  as  a  Church  under  the  authority 
of  the  General  Conference  of  1844;  we  were,  according 
to  the  Plan,  a  coordinate  branch  of  the  original  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church;  we  had  our  Discipline,  organi- 
zation, and  appointments  as  a  Church,  all  completed, 
and  were  in  working  order,  with' Bishop  Soule  at  our 
head.  They  did  not  invite  us  back;  they  would  not  so 
much  as  recognize  our  Fraternal  Messenger;  while  the 
Church.  North,  held  all  the  property  of  the  Book  Con- 
cern and  Chartered  Fund.  Men  of  the  world  laughed 
at  us,  and  said,  "You  have  had  a  Yankee  trick  played 
off  on  you.  on  a  large  scale;  you  were  the  principal 


518  THE   CHURCH,   NORTH   AND   SOUTH. 

contributors  in  building  up  the  Book  Concern  and 
Chartered  Fund,  and  now  that  these  are  paying  institu- 
tions, they  have  persuaded  you  to  set  up  for  yourselves; 
then  they  created  what  they  pretend  is  a  difficulty  in 
the  way  of  paying  to  the  Church,  South,  her  portion; 
and,  to  make  the  matter  sure,  the  Conference  at  Pitts- 
burg,  in  1848,  declared  that  the  Conference  of  1844  had 
no  power  to  make  the  contract,  or  Plan  of  Separation." 
The  condition  of  the  Church,  South,  was  a  novel  one: 
the  Southern  Conferences  were  off  from  the  pay-roll, 
and  the  dividends  were  all  going  to  the  Church,  North, 
while  the  Southern  Conferences  had  no  dividends,  no 
Book  Concern  or  Chartered  Fund,  and  no  money  to  es- 
tablish any.  To  use  the  world's  expression,  we,  down 
South,  were  left  out  in  the  cold.  The  Church,  North, 
was  in  debt  to  us;  but  it  first  refused  to  pay,  then  de- 
nied the  binding  obligations  of  the  contract,  and  then 
fell  out  with  us,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  us, 
so  that  we  were  compelled  to  go  to  law. 

I  believe  that  the  members  of  the  General  Conference 
of  1844  acted,  at  the  time  they  made  out  the  Plan  of 
Separation,  in  good  faith;  I  think  they  then  intended 
to  do  what  they  promised  to  do;  yet  I  have  been  told 
that  some  of  the  members  of  the  General  Conference, 
who  favored  the  measure  and  voted  for  it  at  the  Gen- 
eral Conference,  went  home  and  voted  and  advised 
against  it.  A  party  was  soon  gotten  up  against  the 
measure,  and  when  the  vote  of  the  Annual  Conferences 
failed  by  some  eight  or  ten  votes  to  remove  the  restric- 
tion, this  party  grew  rapidly;  so  that  by  the  time  the 
Church,  South,  was  in  a  condition  to  receive  her  por- 
tion, the  pressure  upon  the  Book  Agent  and  the  Com- 
missioners was  so  great  that  they  refused  to  pay  over; 
and  so  matters  remained  till  the  meeting  of  the  General 


MANLY'S  CAMP-MEETING.  519 

Conference  of  the  Church,  North,  in  1848,  at  which 
time  and  place  the  Commissioners  of  the  Church,  South, 
had  reason  to  believe  that  something  would  be  done. 

Every  thing  was  against  us,  except  law  and  equity. 
They  had  possession  of  the  property;  suit  must  be 
brought  within  the  limits  of  their  Church.  They  had 
the  money,  and,  as  we  supposed,  the  power  to  get  up 
outside  pressure;  but  notwithstanding  all  the  odds 
against  us,  we  appealed  to  the  law,  and  gained  our 
rights. 

Now,  reader,  would  you  not  suppose  that  if  the  South 
had  attempted  any  thing  like  fraud,  double-dealing,  or 
false  pretense,  some  of  their  Book  Agents,  Commis- 
sioners, lawyers,  or  wiseacres  would  have  detected  us? 
No,  it  was  nothing  but  plain,  simple  justice  that  car- 
ried the  suit  in  favor  of  the  South.  I  was  told  by  one 
of  the  leading  men  of  the  Northern  Church  that  the 
property  we  were  contending  for  was  ours  of  right, 
and  that  he  hoped  we  would  get  it  in  the  end ;  but  as 
he  believed  that  we  were  going  to  appropriate  it  to  an 
unholy  purpose — the  support  of  a  slavery  Church — he 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  handing  it  over  to  us; 
but  that  if  we  should  wrest  it  from  them  by  the  power 
of  the  law  he  would  be  glad  of  it.  And  yet,  in  defi- 
ance of  law,  justice,  equity,  and  the  decision  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  the  United  States,  they  still  claim  the 
property !  1869. 


MANLY'S  CAMP-MEETING. 

HAVING  been  kindly  invited  to  attend  the  camp-meet- 
ing at  Manly's,  on  Saturday,  accompanied  by  the  Eev. 
W.  D.  F.  Sawrie,  who  knows  till  about  a  camp-meeting, 
and  is  at  home  alike  in  the  pulpit  and  the  altar,  I  started 


520  MANLY'S  CAMP-MEETING. 

on  the  trip  from  Nashville.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  aft- 
ernoon we  took  our  seats  in  the  car,  and  soon  heard 
the  shout,  "All  aboard! "  which  closes  half-finished  con- 
versation, and  brings  on  rapid  shaking  of  hands  be- 
tween parting  friends.  Away  we  were  whirled  toward 
the  setting  sun,  till  a  little  after  ten  o'clock  at  night, 
when  the  watchman  cried  out,  "Paris!"  and  in  a  few 
moments  we  were  in  the  hands  of  kind  friends,  who 
were  waiting  for  our  arrival,  to  conduct  us  to  the  resi- 
dence of  our  special  friend,  Col.  Ray — the  embodiment 
of  hospitality — who,  with  his  good  lady,  had  waited 
beyond  their  usual  hour  of  rest,  that  we  might  be  re- 
freshed with  a  cup  of  hot  coffee. 

Early  next  morning  we  found  a  hack  in  readiness  to 
carry  us  to  the  camp-ground,  and  in  little  more  than  an 
hour  the  distance  of  eight  miles  had  been  overcome, 
and  we  were  approaching  the  vicinity  of  the  camp- 
ground. For  the  last  few  miles  I  had  been  much  im- 
pressed with  the  scenes  along  the  way,  as  we  overtook 
men,  women,  and  children,  white  and  black,  hastening 
like  living  streams  toward  one  and  the  same  point. 
All  kinds  of  transportation  had  been  employed — car- 
riages, hacks,  buggies,  carryalls,  wagons,  and  carts, 
while  many  were  on  horseback,  and  not  a  few  on  foot. 
Not  a  word  was  heard ;  but  all  were  pressing  onward 
to  a  common  center,  like  the  tribes  of  Israel  going  up 
to  worship  at  the  annual  feast.  The  direction  was  made 
plain  by  the  throng  in  advance  of  us,  though  the  straw 
scattered  along  the  way  would  have  been  a  sufficient 
guide  to  a  stranger. 

The  first  thing  that  attracted  attention,  upon  our  ar- 
rival, was  the  encampment  of  the  colored  people,  situ- 
ated within  one  hundred  yards  of  the  encampment  of 
the  white  people,  with  the  services  already  going  on, 


MANLY'S  CAMP-MEETING.  521 

although  it  was  still  early  in  the  morning.  I  was 
pleased  to  learn  that  they  have  not  been  disturbed  by 
divisions,  nor  misled  by  designing  strangers,  but  are 
under  the  care  of  Brother  Love,  one  of  the  Presiding 
Elders  of  the  Memphis  Colored  Conference — an  import- 
ant part  of  the  work  organized  by  Brother  Taylor,  in 
preparation  for  a  distinct  Church,  in  sympathy  with  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South.  They  had  located 
their  camp-ground  close  to  that. of  the  white  people, 
that  they  might  enjoy  the  protection  and  assistance  of 
their  old  masters,  and  I  was  glad  to  find  that  they  were 
receiving  a  full  benefit. 

Just  beyond,  and  a  little  higher  up  the  hill,  was  to 
be  seen  the  old,  time-honored  Manly's  Camp-ground. 
How  familiar  the  scene — the  multitude  of  vehicles  and 
horses  that  crowded  the  grove,  the  smoke  struggling 
through  the  branches  of  the  trees,  the  tents  and  cook- 
sheds,  some  new  and  others  old,  and  the  freshly-riven 
boards  used  for  roofs!  How  familiar  the  song  which 
fell  on  my  ear!  while  at  that  moment  the  sun,  which 
had  been  obscured  for  days,  struggled  through  the 
clouds  and  threw  broad  and  cheering  rays  upon  the 
encampment,  dissipating  at  once  all  feai'S  of  inclement 
weather.  It  was  interesting  to  observe  how  perfectly 
the  customs  and  habits  of  other  days  have  been  pre- 
served. The  Presiding  Elder  and  preacher  in  charge 
met  me  just  as  they  used  to  do,  and  led  the  way  at  onco 
to  the  preachers'  tent — the  meeting-house  having  been 
assigned  for  their  accommodation.  There  were  the 
beds  along  the  wall,  underlaid  with  straw,  and  there 
were  the  saddle-bags  and  valises,  the  overcoats,  and 
books,  and  pipes! 

It  was  not  long  before  the  Presiding  Elder— a  grave 
and  dignified  man— looked  at  his  watch,  and  said  to 


522  MANLY'S  CAMP-MEETING. 

me,  "I  expect  you  to  preach  at  the  next  hour."  After 
awhile  the  trumpet  blew  the  well-known  signal  for 
public  service,  and  soon  the  great  congregation,  that 
had  only  partially  dispersed,  was  closely  packed  under 
and  around  the  shelter.  When  I  inquired  how  the 
department  of  singing  was  sustained,  I  was  told  that 
all  was  right  therein;  that  Brother  Lilly,  the  prince 
of  singers,  was  on  hand,  but  that  I  must  "line"  the 
hymn.  I  looked  over  the  vast  assembly  for  familiar 
faces,  and  saw  only  two  or  three;  however,  the  pres- 
ence of  "VV.  C.  Johnson  and  S.  P.  "Whitten  made  me  feel 
at  home.  When  the  lines  of  the  hymn  had  been  read, 
a  suitable  tune  was  set,  and  the  voices  of  the  multi- 
tude, as  the  sound  of  many  waters,  rose  and  swelled 
upon  the  air  and  through  the  grove,  so  as  to  cheer  the 
most  drooping  and  sluggish  spirit.  During  the  rather 
long  service  the  crowd  pressed  close  and  closer,  and 
became  so  still  and  fixed  that  the  congregation  looked 
like  a  mighty  tableau. 

When  the  hour  for  dinner  came,  there  was,  as  at 
camp-meetings  of  old,  the  same  long  table,  with  the 
same  long  benches  at  its  sides,  and  that  wide-open  in- 
vitation, as  of  yore,  "  Come  and  help  yourselves!  "  The 
fare  was  abundant,  substantial,  good,  and  free.  The 
order  was  excellent;  there  was  no  disturbing  element 
of  any  kind  to  be  seen. 

This  was  the  first  camp-ground  established  in  the 
State  west  of  the  Tennessee  River,  and  for  forty -five 
years,  save  two,  the  people  of  the  neighborhood  have 
here  held  camp-meetings,  and  one  year  two  were  held. 
It  is  estimated  that  not  less  than  three  thousand  souls 
have  here  been  converted  to  God,  and  of  the  number 
some  twenty-five  or  thirty  have  become  ministers  of 
Christ;  so  that  preachers  of  the  gospel  have  gone  down 


MANLY'S  CAMP-MEETING.  523 

from  this  hill-side,  like  the  prophets  of  old  from  the 
sides  of  Mount  Ephraim;  besides,  much  seed  has  been 
sown  here,  which  has  sprung  up  and  brought  forth 
fruit  in  other  regions.  I  believe  I  may  say  that  hun- 
dreds of  true  and  faithful  ministers  of  Christ,  now  in 
heaven,  have  here  stood  upon  Zion's  walls,  and  sounded 
the  alarm,  and  called  the  wanderer  back  to  God;  and 
while  such  names  as  Joshua  Boucher  and  John  M.  Hol- 
land pass  through  my  mind,  and  I  remember  that  here 
they  preached,  and  prayed,  and  praised,  and  labored  for 
the  souls  of  men  who  now  fold  their  stainless  robes  about 
them,  and  standjnear  the  eternal  throne  while  they  cry, 
"Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord  God  Almighty!"  I  feel 
that  this  is  consecrated  ground.  From  year  to  year,  for 
forty  years  or  more,  the  foot  of  Jacob's  ladder  has  rested 
here,  on  which  angels  have  descended  and  ascended, 
while  hundreds  who  have  passed  beyond  the  vale,  and 
now  behold  the  King  in  his  beauty,  look  back  to  this 
spot  as  the  point  where  their  feet  first  walked  in  the 
path  which  led  them  to  glory. 

The  first  shelter  built  at  this  place  has  long  since 
passed  away.  The  leaden  rain  and  iron  hail  of  time 
beat  it  down,  but  it  was  soon  replaced -by  another,  and 
we  are  now  worshiping  under  the  third  or  fourth 
structure.  There  are  none  of  the  original  campers 
here  now.  They  have,  for  the  greater  part,  pitched 
their  tents  under  the  tree  of  life;  but  as  one  passes 
away  another  takes  his  place;  and  I  am  told  that  there 
are  more  campers  this  year  than  there  have  been  for 
many  years.  While  the  late  terrible  war  raged  around 
them,  the  good  people  of  this  neighborhood  met  from 
year  to  year,  and  held  their  camp-meeting,  with  the 
exception  of  one  year;  and  the  purpose  to  continue 
camping  annually  is  stronger  now  than  it  was  years 


524  CAMP-MEETING    AT   CEDAR   HILL. 

ago,  and,  from  all  I  can  sec,  it  will  be  a  camp-ground 
fifty  years  to  come.  Why  are  there  some  twelve  hun- 
dred members  in  this  circuit?  It  is  because  they  con- 
stantly draw  from  this  great  plant-bed. 

Would  not  camp-meetings  be  a  blessing  to  other  por- 
tions of  the  Church?  Why  should  we  give  them  up? 
Let  us  see  if  we  cannot  have  at  least  one  camp-meeting 
for  each  District  next  year.  I  think  we  can ;  and  for 
one,  will  work  for  it.  It  is  a  blessing  to  both  preacher 
and  people.  I  have  been  here  but  a  little  over  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  the  old  camp-meeting  spirit  is  already 
upon  me.  There  is  a  life  and  power  in  the  sermons 
which  I  have  heard  that  is  truly  refreshing.  Give  us 
more  camp-meetings! 

Three  days  of  the  meeting  are  now  passed,  and  great 
good  has  already  been  done,  and  there  is  the  promise 
of  the  very  best  results. 


CAMP-MEETING  AT  CEDAR  HILL. 

I  REACHED  the  camp-ground  on  Friday  evening,  and 
found  the  campers  all  in  position,  and  every  thing 
looked  like  former  days.  The  preachers  were  quar- 
tered in  the  church,  which  was  close  at  hand.  The 
shelter  was  complete,  the  seats  all  arranged,  the  altar 
fenced  off,  and  the  straw  was  distributed;  the  smoke 
was  rising  from  cooking-sheds,  tables  were  stretched 
along  behind  the  camps,  and  the  trumpet — by  which 
the  signal  was  given  for  service — hung  beside  the  pul- 
pit; there  were  the  Bible  and  hymn-book  lying  on  the 
hand-board — every  thing  was  in  its  place,  which  was 
evidence  to  me  that,  notwithstanding  some  twentj7 
3'ears  and  more  have  passed  away  since  there  was  u 


CAMP-MEETING    AT   CEDAR   HILL.  525 

camp-meeting  in  that  section  of  the  country,  there 
were  some  persons  yet  living  who  knew  how  to  pre- 
pare for  such  meetings.  The  shelter  and  seats  were 
an  improvement  upon  the  old  style,  the  timbers  being 
lighter,  and  the  work  was  done  in  a  more  workman- 
like manner,  which  gave  the  whole  arrangement  an 
air  of  neatness  and  elegance.  The  shed  would  seat 
some  three  thousand  persons,  so  it  was  said;  and  some 
thirty  or  forty  preachers  could  sit  on  the  platform  ele- 
vation of  the  pulpit,  which  formed  three  parts  of  a 
square,  coming  out  even  with  the  front  of  the  pulpit. 
The  preachers  greatly  admired  this  arrangement. 
From  this  elevation  there  were  steps  going  down  into 
the  altar  on  both  sides  of  the  pulpit;  and  although 
this  platform  was  in  the  rear  of  the  main  shed,  yet  it 
was  under  cover.  Service  was  continued  regularly  at 
the  hours  of  eight  and  eleven  o'clock  A.M.,  and  three 
and  seven  o'clock  P.M.,  and  the  trumpet  never  called  the 
people  together  but  there  was  evidence  of  good  being 
done.  There  were  quite  a  number  of  ministers  and 
pious  laymen,  who  gave  evidence  that  they  came  to  do 
the  work  of  the  Lord.  I  never  heard  less  idle  talk  and 
trifling  conversation  at  any  camp-meeting  that  I  ever 
attended.  There  were  six  or  seven  regular  camps;  be- 
sides these,  there  were  two  cloth  tents,  and,  in  addition 
to  these,  Brother  Cullom,  the  preacher  in  charge  of 
Asbury  Circuit,  concluded  that  as  a  number  of  the 
people  of  his  charge  would  likely  attend  the  meeting, 
and  that  as  none  of  his  members  wished  to  camp,  he 
would  have  a  camp  himself;  so  u  few  days  before  the 
commencement  of  the  meeting,  he  came  up  to  Cedar 
Hill  and  obtained  the  use  of  an  empty  tobacco-ware- 
house, located  some  hundred  steps  from  the  camp- 
ground, and  determined  to  move  into  it.  The  people 


526  CAMP-MEETING   AT   CEDAR   HILL. 

of  his  charge  finding  out  what  the  preacher  was  going 
to  do,-  sent  in  supplies  in  abundance,  so  that  a  large 
number  of  persons  were  accommodated  in  this  tobacco- 
house.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  going  up  and  holding 
family-prayer  with  them  one  morning,  and  found  about 
fifty  persons  all  seated,  and  quietly  waiting  for  prayer. 
Brother  Plummer,  the  preacher  in  charge  of  the 
Clarksville  Station,  obtained  a  large  cloth  tent,  where 
he  accommodated  himself  and  others,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  the  Church  in  Clarksville  had  a  large  and 
well-sustained  tent.  There  was  one  other  tent  that  de- 
serves notice  above  all  the  rest.  It  was  improvised 
on  Saturday  of  the  meeting,  and  it  would  be  difficult 
to  tell  of  what  it  was  composed.  It  was  partly  of 
wagon-wheels,  rails,  poles,  boards,  brush,  blankets,  and 
straw — and,  under  the  hands  of  a  youth  about  sixteen 
years  old  and  two  widow  women,  it  rapidly  put  itself 
in  shape;  for  I  do  not  think  it  was  more  than  one  hour 
after  I  saw  a  two-horse  wagon  drive  up  which  con- 
tained the  bedding  and  supplies,  before  the  tent  was 
up,  a  fire  was  kindled,  a  coffee-pot  on  it,  and  the  table 
was  being  set  for  supper.  The  party  consisted  of  a 
grandmother,  daughter,  and  several  grandchildren. 
The  old  lady  told  me  that  she  and  her  daughter  could 
have  come  and  staid  with  some  of  the  campers,  but 
that  they  could  not  think  of  imposing  the  children  on 
anybody;  and  that  her  object  was  the  conversion  of 
her  grandson.  The  last  sight  I  had  of  the  old  lady,  she 
was  sitting  just  at  the  edge  of  the  altar,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  holding  her  grandson's  hat  while  he  had  gone 
to  the  mourner's  bench.  Reader,  do  you  not  think  you 
could  camp?  Some  talk  of  the  expense  of  camping, 
and  some  of  the  exposure,  and  yet  persons  go  to  wa- 
tering-places, and  lodge  in  miserable  huts,  and  feed  on 


NORTH    ALABAMA   CONFERENCE.  527 

scorched  mutton  and  poor  coffee,  and  play  cards  and 
dance  till  midnight;  and  pay  for  such  privileges  from 
three  to  five  dollars  per  day.  Now,  if  persons  do  all 
this  for  recreation,  cannot  Christian  people  go  and 
camp  at  a  camp-meeting  for  the  good  of  souls  and  the 
glory  of  God? 

I  left  Cedar  Hill  Tuesday  evening.  Up  to  that  time 
some  thirty-five  or  forty  persons  had  made  a  profes- 
sion; and  as  the  interest  was  increasing  every  hour,  I 
shall  expect  to  hear  a  good  account. 

I  did  not  see  a  drunken  man  on  the  camp-ground,  nor 
witness  any  act  which  I  regarded  as  disorderly.  There 
was,  at  eleven  o'clock  on  Sunday,  when  some  four 
thousand  persons  were  emptied  out  of  the  cars  at  the 
same  time,  and  more  than  half  of  them  women,  an  ac- 
cumulated whisper,  together  with  the  motion  of  fans 
through  the  air,  making  a  sound  like  a  flock  of  birds, 
which  prevented  some  from  hearing;  and  the  same 
was  experienced  at  three,  when  the  multitude  were  set- 
ting out  for  home.  Let  no  extra  trains  run  on  Sunday 
hereafter.  I  saw  nothing  for  sale,  no  trading  going  on. 
Every  thing  considered,  it  was  the  most  orderly  camp- 
meeting  I  ever  attended,  and  the  number  of  tenters 
will  be  greatly  increased  next  year.  1873. 


NORTH  ALABAMA  CONFERENCE. 

HAVING  just  returned  from  the  session  of  the  North 
Alabama  Conference,  let  me  give  a  brief  sketch  of 
what  I  saw  and  heard. 

My  main  object  in  visiting  this  Conference  was  to 
see  my  old  friends  and  co-laborers  of  the  Tennessee 
Conference  who  are  now  attached  to  the  North  Ala- 


528  NORTH   ALABAMA    CONFERENCE. 

bama  Conference  in  consequence  of  the  division  of  the 
former,  to  meet  and  enjoy  the  fellowship  of  the  preach- 
ers and  people  generally;  and  I  must  say  that  I  am 
greatly  pleased  with  the  result. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  this  Conference  is  com- 
posed of  portions  of  three  Conferences.  The  fractional 
parts  no  doubt  felt  their  isolation,  before  they  came  to- 
gether, like  one  who  has  just  left  his  ancestral  home 
and  is  going  out  to  settle  in  a  new  country;  but  when 
the  fractions — the  different  members  of  this  new  house- 
hold— came  together,  and  began  to  bring  in  their  wares 
and  tricks — their  various  articles  for  housekeeping — 
they  found  that  they  were  not  only  wrell-to-do,  as  an 
Irishman  would  say,  but  were  really  rich  in  numbers, 
churches,  preachers,  and  literary  institutions,  and  all 
that  pertains  to  the  outfit  of  an  Annual  Conference; 
and  all  the  different  parts  came  together  as  by  a  nat- 
ural affinity,  and  fitted  like  the  stones  in  the  temple, 
being  all  squared  and  numbered,  and  coming  at  once 
to  their  proper  places,  with  a  sufficient  amount  of 
brotherly  love  to  cement  all  together.  They  were  so 
happy,  and  so  well  pleased  with  themselves  and  every- 
body else,  that  they  even  treated  Doctor  Summers  and 
myself  with  great  kindness  and  attention. 

I  observed  one  fact  with  great  interest,  which  was 
this:  I  found  in  the  members  of  the  Conference  per- 
sons suited  to  all  the  particular  departments  of  an  An- 
nual Conference — as  though  they  had  been  brought  up 
and  drilled  in  a  school  of  instruction  for  that  very  pur- 
pose. There  was  Doctor  Wilson,  with  his  assistant 
secretaries,  going  on  with  that  department  of  the  bus- 
iness with  all  the  ease  and  grace  of  persons  who  had 
always  been  engaged  in  that  kind  of  work;  and  there 
were  the  chairmen  of  the  various  committees,  bring- 


NORTH    ALABAMA    CONFERENCE.  529 

ing  in  their  reports  in  such  perfect  order  and  finish 
that  one  would  be  at  once  impressed  with  the  idea  that 
they  are  the  very  men  for  the  place;  and  when  wo 
came  to  the  Mission  Board,  which  was  only  two  days 
old,  the  secretary  brought  in  a  report  which  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  veteran  in  the  business.  When  I 
saw  every  thing  getting  into  position,  and  every  man 
finding  his  place  as  by  intuition,  I  could  not  but  feel  that 
the  organization  of  this  new  Conference  was  in  the 
order  of  the  providence  of  God,  and  if  its  future  should 
be  equal  to  its  present  promise,  great  things  may  be 
expected  of  the  North  Alabama  Conference. 

The  appearance  and  ability  of  the  members  of  the 
Conference  impressed  me  very  favorably:  they  are 
every  way  self-sustaining,  and  need  not  to  draw  on 
any  other  Conference  for  a  supply  in  any  department, 
and  will,  in  my  judgment,  soon  be  able  to  give  aid  to 
weaker  sisters. 

The  citizens  of  Gadsden  and  the  country  round  about 
took  great  interest  in  the  business  of  the  Conference, 
so  that  a  large  and  fine  church  was  crowded,  and  such 
was  the  spiritual  status  that  souls  were  converted. 
The  preaching  was  good,  and  the  accommodations 
were  fine.  And  here  is  an  acknowledgment  of  obliga- 
tion to  Brother  and  Sister  Kamsey,  who  so  handsomely 
and  kindly  entertained  the  writer. 

Of  the  many  good  sermons  that  I  heard,  I  shall  men- 
tion but  one— the  sermon  of  Bishop  Paine  on  Sunday 
morning  more  than  sustained  his  great  reputation  as  a, 
preacher.  It  was  powerful  and  glorious,  and  its  influ- 
ence will  be  felt  for  many  days.  May  his  useful  life 
long  be  preserved! 

The  North  Alabama  Conference  will  be  found  among 
the  foremost  to  sustain  the  regular  institutions  of  the 
23 


530  NORTH   ALABAMA  CONFERENCE. 

Church,  which  were  represented  by  Doctor  Summers, 
who  accompanied  me.  What  a  pity  it  is  that  the  Doc- 
tor could  not  be  spared  to  visit  more  of  the  Annual 
Conferences !  I  find  him  an  institution  of  great  power, 
but  his  place  in  the  Publishing  House  cannot  be  sup- 
plied. 


A.NECDOTE8. 


MINOR  AND  THE  HOG. 

/"CAPTAIN  MINOK,  who  is  very  well  known  to  some 
V_y  of  my  readers,  related  to  me  the  following  cir- 
cumstance : 

"Once,"  said  the  Captain,  "when  I  was  commanding 
a  barge,  I  left  New  Orleans  with  stores  sufficient  to  last 
to  Natchez,  allowing  the  trip  to  be  made  in  the  ordi- 
nary time;  but  I  encountered  every  kind  of  difficulty; 
several  of  my  best  men  took  sick,  and  I  had  to  ad- 
vance against  a  strong  head-wind  a  large  portion  of 
the  time,  and  the  consequence  was  that  we  ran  short  of 
supplies. 

"  While  in  this  condition  we  were  lying  to  just  above 
a  large  plantation  of  a  noted  wealthy  Frenchman.  At 
length  a  hog  of  good  size  and  in  fine  condition  carrfb 
rooting  around  the  bow  of  the  boat,  and  as  we  were  nil 
hungry,  and  were  not  allowed  to  purchase  any  thing — 
for  the  boats  from  the  Cumberland  Eiver  were  nil 
classed  with  the  'Kentuck'  boats  by  the  French — the 
temptation  was  more  than  we  were  able  to  bear,  and 
one  of  the  men  took  his  rifle  and  shot  it  down,  and 
brought  it  on  board. 

"Soon  after,  the  French  gentleman,  who  lived  some 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  below,  having  heard  the 
gun,  and  thinking,  probably,  that  something  was  going 

(531) 


532  MINOR   AND   THE    HOG. 

on  that  ought  to  be  looked  after,  was  seen  coming  shuf- 
fling along  up  .the  bank  toward  the  barge. 

"I  saw  at  once,"  continued  the  Captain,  "that  we 
should  have  trouble  unless  the  case  was  well  managed; 
for  we  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  Frenchman,  because 
he  could  call  up  a  hundred  negroes  in  five  minutes,  and 
such  was  the  character  of  the  weather  that  we  did  not 
dare  to  throw  off  our  cable— the  crew  being  evidently 
alarmed." 

Here  let  me  say  to  the  reader,  who  may  not  have  had 
the  acquaintance  of  Captain  Minor,  that  he  was  a  very 
large  man,  and,  while  he  possessed  a  full  share  of  good 
humor,  he  could,  when  he  wished  to  do  so,  put  on  as 
much  dignity  and  gravity  as  any  person  I  have  ever 
met  with,  and  withal  was  a  man  of  remarkable  intel- 
lect. 

'"Now,  my  men,'  said  I,  'do  as  I  tell  you,  and  I 
will  try  and  outwit  this  Frenchman;  but  you  must  be 
quick.  Take  that  long,  broad  plank  that  we  use  as  a 
table,  and  lay  it  across  the  boat;  be  quick.  Now  take 
the  hog,  and  put  it  on  the  plank;  turn  it  on  its  belly; 
stretch  out  its  hind  legs  as  far  as  you  can;  now,  take 
the  cleanest  sheet  you  can  find,  and  spread  it  all  over 
it.  Now  sit  down,  every  one  of  you,  and  look  as  solemn 
as  death.' 

"It  was  done.  By  this  time  the  Frenchman  was  get- 
ting up  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  barge.  I  arose,  with 
my  hands  behind  me,  as  my  custom  was,  and  moved 
toward  the  bow  of  the  boat  with  a  grave,  sad,  gloomy 
countenance.  Just  as  the  Frenchman  was  about  to 
come  on  board,  I  addressed  him  as  follows,  in  the  most 
subdued  and  solemn  manner:  'Friend,  I  ought  to  ask 
you,  before  you  come  on  board,  whether  or  not  you 
have  ever  had  the  small-pox.'  Then  turning  and  point- 


THE    PINEY-WOODS    BROKER.  533 

ing  to  where  the  hog  lay  covered  over  with  the  sheet, 
I  continued,  mournfully,  'One  of  our  poor  fellows  has 
just  died  with  it,  and  as  he  was  an  old  soldier,  we  have 
fired  a  single  shot  over  him  before  committing  his  body 
to  the  wave.' 

'""What!  you  got  de  small-pocke?  By  Gar,  I  no  come 
dis  nigh ! ' 

"Turning  on  his  heel,  he  made  his  way  home  with 
double-quick,  and  no  doubt  passed  a"  law  of  non-inter- 
course between  his  whole  household  and  the  infected 
barge.  So  the  crew  skinned,  cooked,  and  ate  with  im- 
punity." 


THE  PINEY-WOODS  BROKER, 

THE  piney-woods  broker  was  a  remarkable  man  in 
several  respects.  He  kept  his  money  for  the  use  and 
benefit  of  the  coal  and  tar  burners.  When  any  person 
wished  to  borrow,  he  never  had  any  money;  but  he 
always  had  a  little  when  a  note  was  offered;  and  it  was 
a  singular  fact  that  the  amount  of  money  he  had  on 
hand  was  always  just  half  of  what  the  note  called  for. 
Very  sorry  that  he  had  no  more;  but  if  the  holder  of 
the  note  could  do  better  with  the  money  than  with  the 
note,  he  would  take  the  note  and  run  the  risk;  always 
some  risk,  and  a  man  ought  to  be  paid  for  taking  risks; 
but,  to  accommodate  the  holder,  he  would  take  it,  say- 
ing that  money  was  at  present  very  scarce,  and  almost 
any  per  cent,  could  be  obtained  for  it  that  a  man  should 
ask;  but  he  would  not  think  of  cutting  as  deep  as  some 
people. 

This  piney-woods  broker  was  singular  in  another 
particular — he  loved  a  dram;  but  his  money  was  al- 
ways so  large  that  the  doggery-man  could  not  change 


534  THE   PINEY-WOODS  BROKER. 

it,  and  it  was  one  of  the  broker's  principles  not  to  go  in 
debt  for  liquor.  So  others  bought,  and  he  drank.  At 
length,  one  morning,  a  keen  wag,  who  was  one  of  the 
tar -burners,  seemed  to  be  in  deep  distress  about  a  dream 
he  had  the  night  previous,  and  continued  to  refuse  to 
tell  it  until  the  whole  party  became  very  anxious  to 
hear  it.  He  agreed  to  tell  the  dream  on  condition  that 
the  broker  would  treat  the  crowd.  The  broker  resisted 
for  awhile,  until  at  length,  becoming  anxious  to  hear  it 
himself,  he  complied.  The  wag  said  that  in  his  dream 
he  was  in  one  of  the  roughest  forests  he  had  ever  seen. 
The  trees  were  crooked,  as  if  they  had  been  torn  by  the 
wind;  the  ground  sounded  hollow,  and  was  all  heaved 
up  into  hills  as  large  as  old-fashioned  bake-ovens.  He 
saw  in  the  distance  things  like  human  beings,  flitting 
about  spirit-like,  but  it  was  so  smoky  that  he  could  not 
tell  what  they  were  until  he  came  near  them,  when  he 
saw  that  they  were  men,  but  as  black  as  ink,  with  the 
whitest  eyes  and  teeth  he  ever  saw.  Lying  about  were 
boxes,  some  six  feet  long  and  two  feet  wide.  They 
knocked  off  the  top  of  one  of  the  little  hills,  and  such 
boiling  and  smoking  as  he  then  saw  exceeded  any  thing 
of  the  kind  he  had  ever  witnessed ;  it  foamed  like  soap- 
suds. Two  of  those  frightful-looking  men  then  took  up 
a  large  kettle,  that  had  handles,  and  dipped  it  into  the 
boiling  mass,  and  poured  the  material  into  one  of  the 
boxes.  Not  long  afterward,  the  principal  man  came  up, 
and  said,  "I  reckon  that  fellow  is  cool  enough  by  this 
time;"  and  they  turned  over  the  box.  and  out  came  a 
man.  The  overseer  glanced  at  him  quickly,  and  ex- 
claimed, "There,  now,  you  have  ruined  everything! 
that  was  dog-metal,  but  perhaps  he  will  do  for  some 
purpose."  They  set  him  up  against  a  tree,  and  I  knew 
him  instantly.  It  was  the  broker  here;  and  the  first 


TUB  GIN-HOUSE   MAN.  535 

thing  he  said  was,  "I  have  only  money  enough  to  pay 
you  just  one-half  the  price  you  have  charged  for  mold- 
ing me." 


THE  GIN-HOUSE  MAN. 

I  WENT  to  see  an  old  gentleman  once,  and,  unfortu- 
nately, asked  him  how  he  was.  He  told  me  that  he  was 
not  at  all  well;  and  in  order  that  I  might  know  all 
about  it,  he  proceeded  to  tell  me  the  cause.  He  said  he 
was  a  singular  kind  of  man ;  that  he  saw  to  every  thing 
about  the  place,  and  that  he  went  out  some  time  pre- 
vious, to  have  his  cotton-gin  fixed  up.  "Now,"  said 
he,  "I  had  the  first  cotton-gin  that  ever  was  put  up  in 
this  country;"  and  then  he  told  me  who  had  the  next 
one,  and  that  his  gin-house  was  put  up  after  a  certain 
fashion,  and  lasted  until  so  many  "gin-hoads,"  as  he 
called  them,  had  been  worn  out  in  it.  He  gave  a  full 
account  of  the  different  kinds  of  gins  that  he  had  tried, 
and  a  full  history  of  a  boy  who  had  his  fingers  cut  off 
in  one  of  them,  and  the  warning  that  he  had  from  time 
to  time  given  the  ginner  about  the  danger;  but  ho 
would  not  mind  him,  and  suffered  the  consequence. 
Then  he  told  me  a  long  story  about  a  certain  man  who 
had  circulated  a  falsehood  about  his  taking  toll,  and 
why  the  man  did  it;  and  he  wrought  himself  into  quite 
a  rage  over  the  injuries  he  had  received  from  this  per- 
son, some  thirty  years  ago.  But  the  old  gin-house  at 
last  began  to  fall  to  pieces,  and  he  took  it  down,  and 
made  as  good  a  stable  of  the  timbers  asi  any  one  could 
wish  to  see,  when  another  man  would  have  thrown  the 
logs  away.  He  then  went  to  work  and  built  another 
gin-house,  on  an  entirely  different  plan ;  and  ho  was 
very  particular  in  explaining  the  difference  between 


536  THE    DUTCHMAN    ADAM. 

the  two  houses;  and  then  he  begun  to  put  gin-heads 
into  it,  and  ran  them  through  as  many  editions  as 
pumpkins  in  new  ground,  until  the  sills  in  that  house 
began  to  give  way.  He  made  new  sills,  and  gave  a 
minute  description  of  them;  and  some  time  before  (I 
have  forgotten  the  number  of  days,  though  he  called 
his  old  lady  to  prove  that  important  point)  he  stood  on 
the  cold  ground,  showing  the  boys  how  to  put  in  the 
sills,  and  caught  a  slight  cold,  which  had  given  him  a 
touch  of  rheumatism;  but  he  knew  how  to  cure  that, 
and  was  beginning  to  tell  how,  when  dinner  was  an- 
nounced, and  cut  him  off. 

After  dinner  I  got  into  such  a  hurry  that  I  could  not 
hear  any  more.  I  think  I  sat  for  two  long  hours,  and 
allowed  him  to  bore  me,  replying,  "To  be  sure!"  "Is  it 
possible?"  when  the  whole  story  could  have  been  con- 
densed into  a  few  moments. 


THE  DUTCHMAN  ADAM. 

SOME  years  ago,  when  I  was  boarding  in  a  hotel  in 
Columbus,  Ohio,  the  servant  that  had  been  at  my  back 
for  weeks,  during  meals,  was  a  Dutchman  and  a  very 
attentive  servant.  At  length  one  day  I  said  to  him, 
"My  good  fellow,  you  have  been  waiting  on  me  now  for 
several  weeks,  and  I  have  not  yet  found  out  your  name." 
He  put  his  lips  close  to  my  ear,  as  though  he  were  go- 
ing to  tell  me  a  great  secret,  and  said,  "My  name  ish 
Adam."  Said  I,  "That  is  a  beautiful  name;  it  is  the 
name  the  Lord  gave  to  the  first  man  he  ever  made." 
He  seemed  to  be  delighted  that  I  should  be  acquainted 
with  his  people,  and  said,  "Dat  man  was  my  farder's 
farder."  A  gentleman  immediately  to  my  left,  who 


JIM   AND   HIS   MASTER.  537 

heard  the  conversation,  became  so  much  amused  that 
he  laughed  at  such  a  rate  as  to  annoy  his  wife,  who  sat 
beside  him,  but  did  not  hear  the  conversation.  She 
shook  him  and  punched  him,  and  repeatedly  asked  him 
what  was  the  matter  with  him.  He  attempted  to  tell 
her,  but  before  she  could  understand  him  he  became  so 
overpowered  with  laughter  as  to  burst  out  again.  At 
length,  when  he  was  able  to  tell  her  what  the  Dutch- 
man said,  she  said  she  knew  better — that  the  fellow  had 
better  sense  than  that.  So  when  the  Dutchman  re- 
turned, I  asked  him,  "Are  you  not  mistaken  about  old 
Adam,  the  first  man  ever  made,  being  your  father's 
father? "  "JVb,"  said  he,  "7  ish  not  mistake;  my  farder  ish 
very  old  man;  my  farder' s  farder  ish  very  older  man  still;  it 
ish  my  farder 's  farder,  and  you  hear  of  him!"  And  the 
lady  also  laughed  so  much  that  I  think  she  could  not 
swallow  for  fifteen  minutes. 


JIM  AND  HIS  MASTER. 

AN  old  Baptist  preacher  had  a  boy  named  Jim,  who 
was  a  Methodist  preacher.  The  old  master  and  Jim 
had  a  great  many  arguments  on  doctrinal  points;  and 
Jim,  either  because  he  was  the  ablest  disputant  or  had 
the  best  side  of  the  subject,  generally  vanquished  his 
master.  The  old  gentleman  and  Jim  were  in  the  habit 
of  having  their  appointments  on  Sundays,  the  "old 
master"  for  his  Baptist  friends,  and  Jim  for  the  Meth- 
odist negroes.  On  a  certain  Sunday,  the  old  master, 
having  been  worried  a  little  by  Jim's  arguments  during 
the  week,  determined  that  Jim  should  go  and  hear  him 
preach,  instead  of  attending  to  his  own  appointments; 
for  Jim  had  appointments  for  the  day,  as  well  as  his 
23* 


538  JIM    AND   HIS   MASTER. 

master.  So  they  set  out  together;  and  Jim  had  to  hear 
his  old  master  three  times,  morning,  afternoon,  and 
night.  The  old  man  poured  it  down  on  Jim,  like  hot 
shot,  and  poor  Jim  had  no  chance  to  say  a  word  in  re- 
ply. The  day's  work  was  over  at  last,  and  the  master 
and  Jim  were  trudging  home  in  the  dark,  both  on  foot, 
Jim  walking  close  behind  his  master;  for  they  were 
good  friends,  notwithstanding  they  had  hard  arguments 
sometimes.  At  length  the  old  master  said : 

"Jim,  it  is  a  singular  fact  that  when  I  left  home  this 
morning  I  was  very  sick,  and,  although  I  have  preached 
three  times  to-day,  I  now  feel  pretty  well." 

"No  wonder  dat  you  feel  better,"  said  Jim,  "a'ter 
dischargin'  so  much  trash  from  your  stomach  as  you 
hab  to-day!" 


FISHINGL 


FINS  AND  SCALES — A  LECTURE. 

HE  subject  involves  three  points :  Fish,  Fishermen, 
-L  and  Fishing;  and  I  promise  not  to  do  either  of  two 
things — I  shall  not  tell  all  I  know  about  fishing,  and  I 
shall  tell  some  things  that  I  do  not  know  about  it.  So 
you  see  I  am  not  going  to  follow  exactly  the  text  fur- 
nished me. 

Fish  is  probably  the  largest  portion  of  the  supplies 
God  has  furnished  for  the  subsistence  of  mankind. 
The  amount  of  fish  consumed  by  the  human  family 
exceeds  the  amount  of  all  other  supplies  put  together. 

With  regard  to  the  views  taken  by  those  who  have 
written  upon  the  subject  of  fishing,  particularly  upon 
the  subject  of  angling,  not  one  of  them  explains  the 
best  mode  for  that  amusement  in  the  great  Valley 
of  the  Mississippi — I  might  say  in  the  United  States. 
These  works  are  written  by  Englishmen,  and  in  Eng- 
land the  fish  are  generally  "surface"  feeders,  while 
in  this  country  they  are  generally  "bottom"  feeders; 
and  instructions  for  taking  the  one  kind  are  of  no 
service  in  angling  for  the  other.  In  the  next  place, 
those  who  have  written  upon  the  subject  have  mainly 
taken  their  fish  from  oceans  and  estuaries,  and  their 
instructions  do  not  apply  to  fishing  in  Western  waters. 

The  cat-fish  is  uniformly  repudiated,  and  uniformly 

(539) 


540  FINS   AND   SCALES — A    LECTURE. 

eaten.  Ho  is  everywhere  condemned,  and  always 
praised  when  he  comes  to  the  table;  he  is  found  in 
nearly  every  stream,  lake,  pond,  and  river  where  fish 
are  found;  is  not  at  all  nice  about  what  is  set  before 
him,  but  eats  it  and  asks  no  questions;  he  bites  freely 
and  decidedly;  pulls  earnestly  and  with  a  purpose. 
There  is  a  great  mistake  made  by  many  with  regard  to 
this  fish:  they  say,  "Give  me  a  cat  weighing  about 
three  or  four  pounds,  but  when  they  get  large  they  be- 
come tough."  This  is  a  mistake.  The  buffalo,  drum, 
and  a  good  many  other  semi-hard-mouth  fish,  become 
tough  as  they  get  old,  but  the  cat  does  not — he  is  good 
at  any  size  fi-om  one  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 

The  next  most  abundant  fish  with  us  is  the  buffalo. 
He  has  a  heavy  scale,  and  consequently  can  be  pre- 
served a  considerable  length  of  time  without  becoming 
tainted.  v  There  is  a  secretion  between  this  fish's  scales 
and  skin,  which,  unless  it  is  removed,  is  sure  to  be  dis- 
tributed through  the  flesh,  causing  it  to  become  bitter. 
This  fish  is  very  abundant,  particularly  in  the  waters 
of  the  Mississippi  and  Alabama. 

It  has  long  been  a  question  whether  the  drum  be- 
longs to  the  game  or  the  soft-mouth  fish.  It  is  infe- 
rior. I  believe  the  people  up  in  Kentucky  deceive 
folks  by  calling  this  fish  perch. 

Next  to  the  drum,  in  abundance,  is  probably  the 
sucker  tribe,  consisting  of  the  large  white,  and  the 
blue,  suckers;  the  yellow,  and  the  red,  horse.  These 
are  all  of  the  same  genus,  and  are  a  valuable  fish,  but 
are  too  bony  to  be  eaten  without  great  care. 

Among  the  game  fish  there  is  a  great  variety  of  sal- 
mon. We  have  the  fresh-water  salmon,  which  some- 
times weighs  three  or  four  pounds;  but  there  is  a 
difference  between  these  and  the  pure  eastern  salmon 


FINS   AND    SCALES — A    LECTURE.  541 

in  the  waters  of  the  Gulf.  Among  the  fish  belonging 
to  the  salmon  tribe  is  the  pike — a  species  of  pickerel. 
They  are  fine  swimmers,  bold  biters,  fierce  fighters,  and 
hard  to  take;  yet  when  taken,  are  exceedingly  rich 
and  valuable,  both  as  a  pan  and  boiling  fish. 

We  have  a  fish  peculiar  to  our  waters  that  we  call 
the  jack-fish.  They  are  placed  at  the  head  of  the  list 
as  game  fish.  I  have  seen  them  weighing  as  high  as 
twenty-three  pounds.  They  are  very  much  the  shape, 
of  the  salmon,  but  not  as  long,  and  their  sides  are  a 
little  drooping.  How  they  came  to  this  country  we  do 
not  know;  but  they  are  rapidly  increasing,  while  other 
fish  are  diminishing;  the  perch  are  disappearing,  espe- 
cially in  the  Cumberland  Eiver;  the  trout,  the  drum, 
and  the  buffalo,  are  all  in  a  great  degree  diminishing. 

The  next  fish  in  point  of  value  is  what  is  called  the 
black  trout.  It  inhabits,  mainly,  running  stBeams  as 
large  as  the  Cumberland.  They  are  exceedingly  bold, 
and  generally  put  the  angler  to  his  best  to  land  them. 
They  grow  sometimes  to  eight  or  ten  pounds.  I  never 
saw  one  weigh  more  than  eleven  and  a  half  pounds. 
This  fish  is  very  valuable,  and  exceedingly  desirable 
for  table  use. 

Next  in  order  is  what  the  boys  call  the  pond  trout. 
They  grow  very  large,  and  the  meat  is  exceedingly  del- 
icate and  fine.  They  die  gently,  and  do  not  contend 
so  long,  or  furnish  such  an  amount  of  sport  to  the 
angler,  as  the  pure  black  trout. 

Next  is  the  buck  trout,  with  what  we  call  a  silver 
color,  which  is  generally  found  in  small  streams. 
Then  comes  the  white  perch,  which  I  think  is  destined 
to  become  a  very  popular  and  numerous  fish. 

Bishop  Soule  was  a  great  fisherman.  At  one  time 
Bishop  Andrew  was  talking  with  him  on  the  subject, 


542  TREASURES  OF  BIO   BOTTOM. 

and  wanted  to  know  why  ho  was  so  fond  of  fishing,  to 
which  Bishop  Soule  replied  that  it  was  because  of  the 
excitement.  "But,"  said  Bishop  Andrew,  "sometimes 
you  are  not  successful — do  you  find  it  exciting  then?" 
"Of  course  I  do,"  replied  Bishop  Soule.  "Even  when 
you  do  not  get  a  bite?"  "Yes."  "Why,  what  can 
there  be  so  exciting  about  it  then?"  asked  Bishop  An- 
drew. "Why,  sir,  it's  exciting  because  I'm  expecting 
a  bite  every  minute!"  replied  Bishop  Soule. 

A  fisherman's  outfit  costs  from  seventy-five  cents  up 
to  seventy-five  dollars.  The  best  rod  is  an  ordinary 
cane  growing  around  upon  the  river-bottoms.  It 
should  be  well  seasoned,  light,  and  nicely  tapered. 
Joint  rods  are  not  to  be  compared  with  whole  ones,  be- 
ing far  inferior.  The  best  line  you  can  get  is  known 
in  France  as  "cable-line,"  made  of  silk.  I  would  ad- 
vise yoifto  get  a  snood;  they  cost  about  a  cent  apiece, 
and  are  generally  about  a  foot  in  length.  The  best 
sinker  you  can  have  is  an  ordinary  buck-shot,  split  in 
the  center,  the  line  put  in  the  cut  and  the  shot  pressed 
together  again  to  hold  its  place  on  the  line.  Never 
buy  a  float,  but  get  an  ordinary  cork  and  trim  it  into 
suitable  shape.  If  you  use  a  reel  (and  I  should  advise 
you  to  use  one),  get  the  Meek-reel,  which  costs  from 
twelve  to  twenty  dollars;  one  will  last  you  for  years. 
Never  go  fishing  with  an  unsharpened  pole,  for  it  is 
difficult  to  stick  in  the  bank ;  and  to  keep  a  pole  in 
your  hands  all  the  time,  is  very  tiresome. 


TREASURES  OF  BIG  BOTTOM. 

WE  all  went — F.,  and  G.,  and  L.,  and  M.,  and  W.; 
and  besides  these,  were  Eobin,  the  cook;  and  Ed.,  the 


TREASURES  OF  BIG  BOTTOM.          543 

assistant;  and  P.  and  H.  followed  and  joined  us  a  few 
days  afterward. 

It  was  a  beautiful  Monday  morning  late  in  October, 
and  all  were  at  the  depot  of  the  Northwestern  Kail- 
road  in  good  time. 

The  outfit  of  an  angling  party,  with  a  little  dash  of 
the  hunter  mixed  in,  is  worthy  of  notice.  The  first 
concern  was  about  the  tent — is  that  in  good  condition 
arid  in  place?  next,  the  minnow-seines — they  are  both 
here,  well  rigged  and  ready  for  use.  How  many  min- 
now-buckets have  we  in  all?  Fourteen,  all  sound,  and 
with  proper  fastenings.  Three  sides  of  bacon,  corn- 
meal,  flour,  salt,  coffee,  sugar,  butter,  cakes,  bread, 
cooking  utensils,  ax,  hatchet,  nails,  saw,  rope,  twine, 
red  pepper,  sauce,  chow-chow,  vinegar;  no  whisky,  no 
brandy — not  a  drop  of  it!  while  our  medicine-box  con- 
tained but  one  box  of  Cook's  pills.  * 

As  to  individual  or  personal  outfits,  no  one  man  can 
furnish  a  full  list.  The  wading-boots,  fish-buckets, 
rods,  reels,  shawls,  blankets,  guns,  bird-bags,  powder, 
shot,  boxes  and  bundles,  together  with  two  dogs  and 
their  chains  and  collars;  yet  every  man  knew  his  own 
property,  so  that  there  was  neither  trouble  nor  confu- 
sion. And  as  our  trip  was  for  ten  days  at  least,  and 
possibly  longer,  the  outfit  was  rather  extensive. 

For  our  special  accommodation  the  general  agent  of 
the  railroad  had  a  passenger  car  attached  to  a  freight 
train,  with  a  letter  of  instruction  to  agents  and  con- 
ductors to  let  us  off  and  take  us  on  at  our  discretion 
(he  ought  to  have  had  a  fish);  and  the  conductors  were 
kind,  gentlemanly,  and  accommodating,  and  in  the 
name  of  the  party  I  make  this  acknowledgment. 

In  addition  to  what  has  already  been  mentioned,  Ed., 
our  assistant  cook,  had  a  gun— a  primitive,  single-bar- 


544  TREASURES   OF   BIG   BOTTOM. 

reled  shot-gun,  which  M.  contended  was  11  musket,  but 
Ed.  insisted  that  it  was-  a  shot-gun,  and  the  contro- 
versy remains  unsettled  to  this  day.  Ed.  said  that  it 
mout  have  been  a  musket  in  the  beginning,  but  had 
turned  into  a  shot-gun.  Whatever  it  was,  or  was  in- 
tended for,  there  was  one  thing  it  would  not  do,  and 
that  was  shoot  Ed.  was  trying  from  time  to  time  to 
make  it  go  off,  but  fire  it  would  not.  Some  one  of  the 
party  took  advantage  of  Ed.'s  absence  and  put  a  match 
to  it,  and  it  banged  away  with  commendable  noisi- 
ness. This  was  unknown  to  Ed.,  and  when  we  had 
left  the  cars  and  were  on  the  wagons,  wherever  game 
was  seen,  Ed.  would  be  among  the  first  of  the  hunters 
out,  snapping  away  with  terrible  earnestness,  not 
knowing  that  his  gun  was  empty,  and  he  spent  no 
little  time  in  trying  to  insert  fresh  powder  at  the  touch- 
hole.  I  asked  him,  at  length,  what  he  thought  was  the 
matter  with  the  gun;  Ed.  said  that  he  believed  she 
was  choked.  I  told  him  he  would  have  to  strike  her 
in  the  back,  or  give  her  snuff  until  she  sneezed;  but 
poor  Ed.  said  she  would  not  sneeze  nor  do  any  thing 
else.  At  length,  from  the  mere  force  of  habit,  he  blew 
into  the  muzzle,  and  to  his  great  surprise  he  found  his 
gun  was  empty;  and  being  confident  that  he  had  put 
a  load  into  her,  and  not  knowing  how  it  got  out,  he 
changed  his  views  entirely,  and  said  that  the  touch- 
hole  was  so  large  that  the  load  all  wasted  out  through 
it,  or  else  he  had  shot  it  all  away,  just  a  little  at  a  time, 
and  did  not  know  it.  He  loaded  up  again,  but  never 
got  that  load  out  until  he  laid  her  on  a  log  and  struck 
the  hammer  with  a  rock,  when  she  fired  with  a  venge- 
ance, jumping  about  one  foot  high  and  several  feet 
backward,  and  turned  over  on  her  side,  looking  quite  A 
exhausted.  But  it  was  found  that  either  from  the 


TREASURES  OF  BIG  BOTTOM.          545 

effort  to  shoot  or  the  beating  from  the  rock,  the  main- 
spring of  the  lock  was  broken.  Ed.  was  now  in  deep 
distress,  and  asked  M.  —  whom  he  knew  to  be  a  dealer 
in  hardware — which  would  be  the  cheaper,  to  get  the 
main -spring  mended  or  buy  a  new  one.  G.  told  him 
that  the  whole  establishment  was  not  worth  more  than 
fifty  cents;  that  it  could  only  be  sold  as  old  iron,  and 
poor  iron  at  that.  So  much  for  Ed.'s  outfit. 

But  back  to  our  narrative.  At  the  blowing  of  the 
whistle  at  seven  o'clock  A.M.  we  were  all  in  readiness, 
and  off  we  went  toward  the  setting  sun.  When  about 
thirty  miles  from  the  city,  two  of  the  freight  cars  be- 
came contrary,  threw  themselves  across  the  track,  and 
had  to  be  removed  before  we  could  go  on  again ;  but  the 
party  took  the  delay  easy — some  hunted  birds  and 
squirrels,  others  grapes,  and  all  took  a  hand  in  chang- 
ing freight,  and  in  a  few  hours  we  were  whirling  on 
again  at  the  rate  of  eighteen  miles  to  the  hour,  reach- 
ing the  point  where  we  were  to  leave  the  cars  a  little 
after  sunset.  Mr.  B.,  with  whom  we  stopped,  was 
looking  for  us,  and  received  us  with  all  the  kindness  of 
Abraham  of  old.  Here  we  were  handsomely  enter- 
tained, and  on  the  next  morning  men,  seines,  and  buck- 
ets were  all  at  the  creek  at  an  early  hour,  for  here  the 
minnows  had  to  be  caught.  By  eleven  o'clock  the 
buckets  were  filled,  and  having  stored  our  baggage 
away  in  the  wagons,  and  eaten  an  excellent  dinner 
prepared  by  Mrs.  B.,  we  were  soon  under  way  to  Big 
Bottom— and  Big  Bottom  it  is!  The  river-line  of  this 
bottom  I  suppose  is  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles,  while 
the  back-line  is  about  ten  miles,  being  somewhat  in  the 
form  of  a  crescent.  The  point  selected  for  our  camp 
was  about  midway  the  water-line,  and  within  one  mile 
of  the  mouth  of  Duck  River.  We  reached  the  spot  at 


546  TREASURES   OF  BIG   BOTTOM. 

about  four  o'clock  P.M.,  all  safe,  nothing  broken,  and 
the  minnows,  generally  alive,  were  soon  enjoying  a 
bath  in  the  river.  The  tent  was  pitched,  a  fire  built, 
and  Robin  went  to  work  at  his  peculiar  trade;  while 
G.  improvised  a  pretty  good  table  out  of  such  mate- 
rials as  he  could  gather  up.  After  supper  we  rigged 
a  few  lines  and  cast  them  into  the  stream,  that  we 
might  have  fish  for  breakfast;  and  soon  "W. — who  is 
sure  to  catch  a  fish  if  there  is  one  in  the  neighbor- 
hood— lands  a  gray  cat-fish  of  about  fifteen  pounds 
weight,  which  was  handed  over  to  Eobin,  who  knew 
how  to  make  steak  of  it,  and  when  set  before  us  brown 
and  smoking,  all  prejudice  against  a  cat-fish  gave  way, 
and  we  fared  sumptuously. 

A  farther  notice  of  Big  Bottom  will  likely  be  called 
for.  "Well,  here  it  is.  It  is  formed  by  Duck  and  Ten- 
nessee rivers  on  one  side,  and  the  ridges  extending 
from  Waverley  and  Johnsonville  on  the  other.  It  is 
from  twenty  to  thirty  miles  in  length,  and  from  two  to 
five  miles  in  width.  It  is  overflowed  by  the  waters  of 
the  Duck  and  the  Tennessee  rivers;  so  that  when 
either  of  these  streams  is  high,  the  whole  of  this 
country  is  under  water,  and  no  person  can  live  in 
the  Big  Bottom  at  any  point.  Consequently,  those 
who  own  or  cultivate  these  lands  all  live  back  in  the 
barrens,  or  hill  country.  The  land  is  immensely  rich, 
the  trees  are  thick  and  of  tremendous  growth,  and  the 
greater  portion  of  them  splendid  timber.  I  was  in  one 
field  of  corn  planted  in  July  and  never  plowed  after 
planting,  and  yet  the  crop  seemed  to  be  a  good  one; 
but  being  in  danger  of  frost,  the  owner  was  gathering 
it  to  feed  stock.  There  are  a  number  of  lakes  in  this 
bottom.  We  visited  three  of  them — Clear  Lake,  Lake 
Design,  and  Cypress  Lake,  and  fished  in  two  of  them. 


TREASURES   OF   BIG   BOTTOM.  547 

3f  the  three.  Clear  Lake  is  the  most  worthy  of  notice: 
t  is  about  two  miles  from  Duck  Eiver  and  one  mile 
Tom  Tennessee  Eiver,  and  is  the  ancient  bed  of  one  or 
;he  other  of  these  rivers,  no  one  knows  which.  It  is 
'ar  away  from  human  habitation,  and  is  not  honored 
ivith  even  a  path  leading  to  it;  its  length  is  about  one 
nile,  while  the  width  is  not  more  than  one  hundred 
>*ards;  it  is  surrounded  by  old  trees  of  the  largest  size. 
Fhe  depth  of  the  water  is  about  fourteen  feet,  with  a 
irm  bottom;  its  shores  are  free  from  undergrowth; 
>he  water  is  clear  as  crystal — clearer  I  never  saw,  un- 
ess  it  was  the  waters  of  Lake  Huron.  This  lake  is  a 
hing  of  perfect  beauty;  there  it  sleeps  in  the  wild  old 
ibrest,  as  calm  as  an  infant.  Its  waters  are  not  only 
ilear,  but  sweet.  A  small  stream  flows  from  it,  but 
fione  empty  into  it,  which  is  evidence  that  it  is  sup- 
plied by  springs.  The  waters  of  this  lake,  at  the  time 
[  saw  it,  were  some  twenty-five  feet  above  those  of 
;he  Tennessee  and  Duck  rivers.  From  the  growth 
)f  the  timber  upon  its  shores,  I  should  judge  this  lake 
:o  be  very  old.  It  is  abundantly  supplied  with  fish, 
mainly  of  the  game  species;  but  I  saw  some  drum, 
Buffalo,  cat-fish,  gar,  or  grindle,  and  a  few  blood-suck- 
jrs.  The  prevailing  varieties,  however,  are  pike,  or 
pickerel,  trout,  and  white  and  speckled  perch ;  and  they 
seem  to  be  without  number.  The  people  in  the  neigh- 
borhood all  told  us  that  the  fish  in  Clear  Lake  would 
not  bite.  This  I  was  slow  to  believe;  and  on  trying, 
soon  found  that  it  was  a  mistake,  but  that  they  could 
not  be  taken  from  the  main-land  in  consequence  of  the 
moss  that  lines  the  shore,  and  extends  out  some  thirty 
feet  into  the  water.  I  could  get  strikes,  and  hang  the 
fish,  but  they  would  become  entangled  in  the  moss,  so 
that  I  would  not  only  lose  the  fish,  but  part  of  my  lino 


548  TREASURES   OF   UIG   BOTTOM. 

also;  so  wo  had  a  boat  transferred  from  Tennessee 
River  to  the  lake,  which  proved  a  success;  and  I  have 
no  doubt  the  fact  that  our  party  caught  fish  in  this 
lake  will  be  the  cause  of  many  persons  spending  much 
time  and  labor  for  naught;  for  with  a  boat,  fish  can 
only  be  taken  by  the  very  perfection  of  the  angler's 
skill.  The  line  must  be  delicate  and  invisible,  and 
you  must  fish  near  the  bottom,  and  that  at  a  consider- 
able distance  from  the  boat,  preserving  perfect  still- 
ness; but  with  a  suitable  outfit  and  proper  care  and 
attention,  the  success  will  be  surprising.  G.  and  \V. 
fished  a  few  hours  one  day  in  the  boat,  and  the  result 
was  forty  game  fish. 

Lake  Design  is  smaller  and  not  so  deep,  and,  though 
a  little  dingy,  can  be  fished  from  the  shore  successfully. 
We  visited  it  one  day,  and  caught  a  quantity  of  fine" 
fish.  When  fishing  in  this  lake  we  came  together  at 
noon  for  lunch;  but  before  leaving,  F.  set  out  a  hook 
near  the  lap  of  an  old  tree  that  had  fallen  into  the 
lake;  and  while  he  was  absent  a  monster  fish  took  pos- 
session. When  F.  returned  he  tried  to  bring  it  out, 
but  could  not;  the  fish  went  where  it  pleased,  only  it 
was  not  able  to  part  his  line.  At  length  it  took  refuge 
in  a  lot  of  brush,  became  sullen,  and  would  not  go  out 
again  to  open  sea.  W.  being  on  the  same  side  of  the 
lake  with  F.,  came  to  his  assistance.  F.  said  to  him, 
"Here,  take  this  pole,  hold  it  hard,  and  I  will  go  in 
after  that  fish!"  and  in  he  went,  and  down  he  went, 
and  grappled  the  monster,  but  not  being  able  to  tell 
precisely  where  the  fish  lay,  he  unfortunately  got  his 
hand  into  its  mouth,  and  finding  that  it  was  armed 
with  terrible  teeth,  and  disposed  to  use  them,  he 
changed  the  point  of  attack,  and  eventually  brought 
the  monster  to  land.  G.,  who  was  on  the  opposite  side 


TREASURES   OF    BIG   BOTTOM.  549 

of  the  lake,  said  he  thought  F.  had  caught  the  daddy 
of  the  trout  tribe.  The  fish  weighed  about  fifteen 
pounds,  and  gave  evidence  of  great  strength.  The 
trouble  with  F.  and  W.  was  to  determine  what  kind  of 
fish  it  was.  They  first  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
was  a  white  cat-fish,  but  the  scales  and  teeth  offset  that 
idea;  they  next  judged  it  to  be  a  lake  jack-fish,  but 
neither  head  nor  tail  would  suit;  they  then  settled 
down  on  the  idea  that  it  was  a  monster — a  cross  of  the 
cat-fish,  or  jack,  or  pike,  or  gar.  At  length  M.  came 
along,  and  pronounced  it  a  scaly  cat,  or  grindle,  and 
not  good  for  food.  Soon  after,  W.  caught  one  of  the 
same  family.  When  we  knocked  off  we  had  as  many  fish 
as  we  could  carry,  and  left  the  monsters  to  fight  it  out 
with  the  raccoons.  On  reaching  camp,  Robin  lamented 
the  loss  of  these  fish;  he  said  they  were  excellent  eat- 
ing, and  next  morning  employed  a  camp-pauper  to  go 
and  bring  them  in;  and  was  delighted  to  find  them 
both  alive.  They  are  well  supplied  with  fins,  and,  I 
should  judge,  good  swimmers;  and  being  armed  with 
teeth,  must  be  a  terror  to  all  small-fry.  L.  said  he 
would  pay  the  expense  of  a  wood-cut  representing  W. 
holding  the  rod,  and  F.  in  the  lake  fighting  the  terri- 
ble monster,  but  we  have  not  been  able  to  supply  it. 
'  Sunday  was  approaching,  so  on  Saturday  evening  the 
fishing-tackle  was  all  brought  to  camp,  the  guns  laid 
aside,  and  the  best  preparation  that  our  circumstances 
would  permit  made  for  a  proper  observance  of  that 
sacred  day.  G-.,  W.,  M.,  and  H.,  went  into  the  neigh- 
borhood to  church.  W.  opened  the  Sunday-school  at 
nine  o'clock  A.M.,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  G.  preached  to 
a  very  large,  well-behaved,  and  devotional  congrega- 
tion. The  church  is  a  large  one  for  the  country,  well 
built,  and  finished  in  good  taste.  The  singing  was  in- 


550  TREASURES   OF  BIG  BOTTOM. 

spiring,  and  the  entire  service,  I  trust,  profitable. 
Immediately  after  the  morning  service  was  over,  bas- 
kets of  provisions  were  displayed  in  great  profusion, 
and  all  were  invited  to  lunch.  At  two  o'clock  G.  ad- 
dressed the  Sunday-school,  which  is  very  large  and 
well  conducted.  It  was  a  day  of  spiritual  comfort  to 
many.  Any  person  going  from  Big  Bottom  to  this 
church,  and  not  knowing  the  facts  as  they  are,  will  be 
taken  by  surprise.  As  soon  as  you  have  emerged  from 
the  deepest,  darkest  wilderness,  you  are  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  multitude  of  well-dressed,  good-looking 
Christian  people,  with  an  imposing  house  of  worship, 
with  all  the  appointments  of  an  old  and  wealthy 
country. 

But  the  reader  will  want  to  know  how  the  party 
succeeded.  I  think  I  may  say  that,  with  the  exception 
of  the  bird-shooting,  it  was  a  perfect  success.  The 
open  or  cultivated  lands  that  were  in  reach  of  our 
camp  were  so  loaded  with  vegetation  as  to  put  bird- 
shooting  out  of  the  question ;  we  could  hear  the  whistle 
of  the  birds,  but  that  was  all.  Big  Bottom  is  supplied 
with  all  kinds  of  game  common  to  this  country,  except 
the  opossum — they  are  not  to  be  found.  Deer,  turkeys, 
ducks,  squirrels,  and  raccoons,  are  in  abundance,  and 
fish  in  all  the  waters,  while  the  banks  of  Clear  Lake 
are  bored  and  perforated  by  the  beaver. 

Some  of  our  fish  died  on  the  string;  some  were  de- 
voured by  water  animals  or  raccoons,  several  bark  cat- 
fish chewed  into  their  cables.  We  ate  fish  for  ten  days, 
and  in  this  had  some  assistance  from  the  neighbors; 
some  spoiled  because  of  the  warmth  of  the  weather; 
and  yet  we  brought  home  from  fifty  to  one  hundred 
pounds  of  choice  fish.  As  to  the  hunting,  I  think  at 
least  one  hundred  squirrels  were  killed,  a  few  birds, 


ON  BUFFALO  CREEK.  551 

and  one  raccoon.  The  largest  cat-fish  caught  weighed 
about  thirty  pounds;  the  largest  jack -fish  was  thirty- 
nine  inches  in  length,  and  twenty-two  pounds  in  weight ; 
the  largest  trout  eight  pounds.  We  caught  cat,  jack, 
pike,  trout,  drum,  rock -bass,  white  perch,  speckled 
perch,  grindle  eels,  and  gars. 

We  broke  camp  after  breakfast,  and  took  tea  the  same 
day  with  our  friends  at  home.  All  well;  no  accident; 
no  one  got  sick;  no  one  got  out  of  temper.  Those  who 
were  complaining  when  we  left  returned  well,  all  thank- 
ful to  kind  Providence  for  health,  spirits,  recreation, 
and  renewed  strength  for  future  labor. 


ON  BUFFALO  CREEK. 

THE  nights  were  dark,  and  all  the  signs  were  right, 

With  reel  and  rod  the  angler's  skill  to  try, 

And  G.  now  eager  and  impatient  grew; 

While  deep-blue  pools,  with  gently-sloping  banks, 

Passed  through  his  mind,  enkindling  strong  desires, 

With  Meek's  best  clicking  reel  and  baited  hook, 

To  cast  his  line  into  some  limpid  stream; 

And  others  soon  the  inspiration  caught, 

And  F.,  and  P.,  and  M.,  gave  in  their  names 

As  parties  to  the  contemplated  trip. 

Be  ready!  was  the  word,  with  all  your  tools — 

Buckets,  with  lines  and  seine,  rods,  reels,  and  hooks. 

We  came  together  as  the  evening  train 

Was  starting  on  its  nightly  noisy  tramp 

Unto  the  western  home  of  closing  day. 

But  ere  the  night  grew  faint  with  hoary  age, 

The  whistle  blew,  the  iron  wheels  stood  still; 

And  Waverley  was  now  the  watchman's  cry; 

When  every  man  unto  his  baggage  flew, 

And  out  went  buckets,  satchels,  rod?,  and  shawls, 


552  ON  BUFFALO   CREEK. 

Together  piled  within  friend  Spicer's  hall, 
To  wait  until  another  clay's  return. 

The  morning  dawned  at  last,  both  fresh  and  fair; 
And  soon  all  hands  were  out,  with  wading-boots 
And  minnow"-seine,  our  buckets  to  supply 
With  silver-sides  and  steel-backs  of  good  size. 
Yet  twelve  miles  distant  lay  our  destined  point; 
And  transportation  now  must  be  procured. 
A  wagon  soon  was  found — such  as  it  was — 
It  had  no  bed  save,  where  the  bed  should  be, 
Some  old  loose  planks,  with  others  at  the  sides, 
While  both  the  ends  were  out  and  open  wide. 
Upon  this  floor  our  baggage  was  piled  up, 
And  each  man  in  his  place  was  stowed  away. 
Our  team  was  badly  matched  in  age  and  size; 
But  driver,  team,  and  all  were  found  good  pluck. 
Just  as  the  shades  of  night  were  drawing  near, 
Before  friend  Foulkes's  gate  we  called  a  halt, 
And  soon  a  generous,  kind  reception  met, 
And  passed  the  night  away  in  rest  and  sleep. 
Soon  as  the  morning  came  the  sport  began. 
While  shoals  and  shallows  lay  on  either  hand, 
Yet  just  in  front  were  waters  deep  and  wide, 
And  under  foot  a  gently-sloping  bar; 
While  just  across  the  stream,  in  bold  relief, 
There  stood  a  grand  old  bluff  of  ancient  birth, 
Whose  granite  brow  was  in  the  misty  cloud; 
There  with  uncovered  breast  alone  it  stood, 
Bathing  its  giant  feet  in  the  clear  flood. 
And  now  with  eager  hands  we  went  to  work 
To  see  who  first  should  cast  a  baited  hook 
In  the  most  favored  spot — the  eddy's  eye. 
Our  rods  were  metal-shod,  with  tapered  points, 
And  soon  were  set  along  the  pebbly  shore; 
But  G.  was  ready  first  to  cast  his  line; 
The  rod  was  set,  the  pressure  off  the  reel ; 
Out  flew  the  shining  bait  upon  the  stream, 
But  soon  it  sank  to  sightless  depths  below, 


ON    BUFFALO    CREEK.  553 

Where  jack  and  trout  had  made  a  settlement. 
But  ere  the  work  of  setting  rods  was  done, 
The  shout  was  heard,  "G.,  G. !  your  reel,  your  reel!" 
All  must  admit  that  music  has  its  charms, 
Composed  of  mingled  sounds  that  please  the  ear, 
And  thrill  along  the  nerves  in  such  a  way 
As  best  to  wake  emotions  of  pure  joy. 
Talk  as  you  may  of  the  soft  evening  breeze 
That  whispers  through  enchanted  groves  of  love, 
Or  the  wild  storm  in  yonder  mountain-gorge, 
That  rends  the  rocks  till  granite  showers  fall; 
Then  listen  to  old  ocean's  frightful  roar 
Amid  the  storm  along  the  rock-bound  coast, 
Of  the  deep  moan  of  midnight's  sighing  winds 
Mid  solemn  forests  of  old  stately  pines; 
Then  walk  through  shady  groves  of  trees  and  shrubs, 
Where  busy  bees  drink  nectar  from  each  bloom, 
And  butterflies  are  waltzing  to  their  hum; 
Then  turn  and  listen  to  the  reaper's  song, 
When  from  his  toil  at  evening  he  returns, 
While  parent  birds  are  calling  home  their  young. 
Now  from  the  fields  of  nature  turn  away : 
Go  to  that  dark  and  ancient  Gothic  pile, 
And  grope  your  way  along  its  dusty  aisles, 
Pull  oft'  your  hat,  and  open  wide  your  ears, 
And  listen  to  the  deep-toned  organ's  wail, 
While  to  its  notes  all  things  in  cadence  move, 
And  human  voices  mingle  in  the  sound; 
And  when  the  day  is  past,  with  all  its  cares, 
Then  hearken  to  the  minstrel's  evening  hymn, 
When  viol  and  lute,  uniting  with  the  voice, 
Make  melody  complete,  and  cheer  the  heart; 
But  yet  there  is  a  sound  surpassing  all, 
Which  thou  hast  yet  to  hear  to  feel  the  power- 
It  is  the  clicking  of  the  angler's  reel, 
When  trout  or  jack  doth  draw  the  silken  cord. 
G.,  as  you  might  suppose,  was  at  his  post, 
Guarding  his  line  that  it  might  easy  flow. 

24 


554  ON   BUFFALO   CREEK. 

"It's  had  it  long  enough,  I  think,"  said  one. 

"It  is  a  jack,"  said  G. ;  "it  must  have  time; 
I  want  to  make  sure  work,  and  land  it  safe; 
But  now  I  '11  strike,"  he  said;  and  strike  he  did, 
And  caught  it,  too — a  noble  fish  it  was. 

"He's  got  him!  "  was  the  shout;  "do  n't  let  him  go! 
Hold  it !  hold  it !  see  how  it  bends  the  pole ! " 

"Just  bring  it  here,"  said  F.,  "I '11  land  it  safe." 
G.  reeled  it  up  at  last  within  full  view, 
And  with  pure  angling  skill  F.  brought  it  to. 
It  was  a  jack,  full  thirty  inches  long, 
With  shining  rows  of  pure,  white  glistening  teeth, 
And  brilliant  eyes  and  scales  like  polished  gold. 

"Well,  that  was  grand,"  said  P.,  "and  no  mistake." 
After  this  feat  the  sport  more  general  grew; 
Fish  after  fish  was  safely  brought  to  land, 
And  strung  and  moored  along  the  shady  shore. 
But  M.  struck  oft,  and  failed  to  hook  his  fish ; 
When  G.,  the  senior  Walton  of  the  crowd, 
To  try  his  luck,  resolved  on  M.'s  relief. 
With  rod  in  hand  he  quickly  turned  the  reel ; 

"I'll  tempt  that  jack  to  bite,  without  a  doubt, 
And  let  you  see  what  skill  and  art  can  do; 
It  will  not  take  the  bait,  I  fear,"  said  he; 

"  But  jacks  must  have  their  time;  so  I  will  wait." 
At  length  it  bit  again,  and  took  off  line. 

"It's  had  it  long  enough,  I  think,"  said  G. ; 

"  I  '11  strike  it  now."     He  struck,  and  hung  it  fast, 
And  reeled  it  up,  and  high  above  the  stream, 
Suspended  in  the  air,  was  to  be  seen 
A  water-dog  about  ten  inches  long. 

"  Well,  that  was  done  in  first-rate  style,"  said  M. ; 

" Huzza  for  G.,  I  say,  and  science,  too! " 

"And  now,"  said  P.,  "I'll  try  the  other  side." 
To  the  canoe  he  went,  and  paddled  o'er, 
And  when  about  to  step  upon  the  bank, 
The  light  boat  gave  a  lurch,  and  in  he  went, 
And  downward  sank  unto  the  bottom  soft; 


ON  BUFFALO   CREEK.  555 

But  with  a  bound  that  made  the  water  boil, 
And  quick  as  thought,  he  was  upon  the  land. 
F.  had  his  troubles,  too ;  in  throwing  out 
He  would  a  circle  make,  and  throw  too  high, 
And  hang  his  line  upon  the  limbs  of  trees. 

"  I  'm  in  a  fix,"  said  he ;  "I  've  hung  my  line 
Across  the  stream ;  my  hook  is  in  the  brink, 
While  I  am  here,  and  something  at  my  hook." 

"  Why  do  n't  you  jerk  ?  "  said  G-.     "  For  what  ?  "  said  F. ; 

"  There  is  no  use ;  can  I  jerk  down  a  tree  ?  " 
The  day  was  now  far  spent ;  the  sport  was  fine ; 
Our  plans  for  next  day's  work  were  quickly  made. 
The  second  day  was  spent  much  as  the  first, 
And  at  its  close  we  made  our  plans  to  move 
Some  two  miles  lower  down  the  lake  to  try. 

Let  Fancy  go  to  work,  and  do  its  best 
To  form  a  spot  to  fill  the  angler's  eye; 
Make  bluffs  and  bars,  with  blue  deep  holes  to  suit ; 
Add  shoals  and  rocks;  put  every  thing  in  shape, 
Just  as  you  like,  with  all  the  parts  complete — 
And  yet  this  spot  will  far  surpass  it  all ; 
In  length,  and  breadth,  and  depth,  it  was  all  right. 
The  shore  was  dry,  the  bottom  free  from  snags. 
Our  rods  were  set,  our  lines  were  soon  cast  out, 
The  reels  began  to  whiz,  the  poles  to  bend, 
And  more  than  one  were  quickly  snatched  away 
By  master  fish,  and  were  by  boat  pursued ; 
But  night  was  coming  on — and  who  could  quit? 
Friend  Foulkes  his  wagon  sent  a  sheet  to  bring, 
And  soon  it  came,  and  rose  into  a  tent, 
And  with  it  skillet,  salt,  and  frying-pan, 
And  coffee-pot,  and  good  old  bacon-side ; 
And  now,  with  savory  jack  and  trout  well  fried, 
We  had  a  feast  such  as  a  king  might  like. 
M.  thought  to  rest  his  hook  and  air  himself; 
He'd  take  his  gun  and  try  the  squirrels  now. 
On  his  return,  when  he  made  his  report, 
We  found,  in  less  than  one  short,  fleeting  day, 


556  ON   BUFFALO   CREEK. 

Some  thirty  squirrels  added  to  our  store. 

Sport  had  to  end,  for  next  day  was  our  last; 

A  full  supply  of  game  was  gathered  up — 

Yes,  more  than  we  could  wish  or  carry  home ; 

And  yet  we  could  not  leave  for  one  day  more. 

It  was  the  holy  Sabbath  of  the  Lord ; 

With  garments  brushed,  and  person  clean  and  neat, 

We  walked  together  to  the  house  of  prayer. 

The  room  was  filled,  the  worshipers  sincere, 

The  songs  devotional,  the  sermon  good, 

'T  was  said,  while  tears  of  holy  joy  were  seen ; 

It  was  a  holy  Sabbath-day  well  spent. 

Next  day  we  left  for  home,  all  in  good  health, 

Delighted  with  our  trip  and  friends  we  met, 

And  left  behind,  not  soon  to  be  forgot. 

In  weather,  comfort,  health,  and  sport,  our  trip 

Was  a  success  in  all  those  words  import. 

And  should  we  live  until  another  year, 

And  Providence  permit,  we'll  go  again. 

Let  those  who  wish  to  try  their  luck, 

And  know  not  where  to  go, 
Waste  not  their  time  at  other  streams, 

But  go  to  Buffalo.  1867. 


MISCELLANY. 


FAMILY  GOVERNMENT. 

r  1 1HERE  is  no  doubt  that  such  a  thing  as  family  gov- 
JL  ernment  exists,  but  what  it  is,  and  how  constituted, 
is  not  so  easily  determined;  yet  we  hear  of  family  gov- 
ernment every  day;  we  have  always  been  connected 
with  it,  but  I  am  at  a  loss  to  describe  it.  There  is  no 
written  code  of  laws  laid  down,  and  no  set  time  when 
laws  and  rules  are  made.  It  is  not  a  republican  form  of 
government;  it  is  not  a  monarchy,  for  there  is  usually 
a  complicated  head  to  this  kind  of  government.  The 
generally  received  opinion  is  that  the  parents  are  the 
governors,  and  the  children  are  the  governed. 

There  is  one  remarkable  feature  in  this  government, 
which  is  this:  the  same  party  make  the  laws,  sit  as 
judge,  act  as  jurors,  and  then  administer  or  execute; 
so  that  one  might  suppose  they  would  have  things  their 
own  way.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  we  should 
find  a  great  want  of  uniformity  on  the  one  hand,  and 
great  inconsistencies  on  the  other;  and  while  it  is  not 
our  intention,  at  present,  to  examine  the  wrongs  and 
errors  which  characterize  this  government  as  it  often 
exists,  yet  a  few  of  the  defects  thereof  may  be  men- 
tioned with  propriety. 

It  is  sometimes  all  law,  and  neither  administration 
nor  penalty;  at  other  times  there  seems  to  bo  penalty 

(557) 


558  FAMILY   GOVERNMENT. 

without  the  command  or  mandate.  Sometimes  great 
offenses  are  overlooked,  while  at  other  times  very  small 
offenses  are  severely  punished.  We  thirrk  it  probable 
that,  in  the  main,  there  are  too  many  laws  passed,  and, 
when  enacted,  not  well  defined.  Wherever  this  is  the 
case  there  will  be  trouble,  and  not  a  little  of  it,  unless 
the  parents  should  permit  the  subjects  to  violate  their 
laws  with  impunity;  in  such  case  the  government  re- 
solves itself  into  anarchy,  and  becomes  as  no  govern- 
ment at  all.  At  one  time  we  find  the  governor  of  the 
family  exceedingly  rigid,  at  another  time  very  careless 
and  indifferent.  Some  insist  on  the  necessity  of  corpo- 
real punishment,  and  the  whole  penal  code  finds  its 
answer  in  a  beech-rod;  others  ignore  corporeal  punish- 
ment, and  do  all  by  a  kind  of  moral  lecture,  which  is 
generally  called  scolding;  others  purchase  obedience 
by  promises  of  presents,  or  by  favors  promised  or  im- 
mediately bestowed.  All  pass  laws,  we  will  admit. 
One  procures  obedience  by  whipping  the  child;  an- 
other gives  it  candy,  or  a  toy,  or  a  book -to  tear  in 
pieces;  another  always  makes  a  mere  external  term  of 
the  present,  with  a  promise  of  full  trial  and  punish- 
ment at  the  next  term,  and  the  consequence  is  that 
some  live  as  under  the  control  of  a  fickle  and  bloody 
tyrant;  others  learn  to  behave  badly,  that  they  may 
receive  some  nice  thing  to  induce  them  to  desist  from 
their  evil  practices  for  the  time,  while  others  learn  to 
treat  the  law  and  the  government  with  contempt.  In 
other  cases  the  united  head  divides,  and.  the  child  takes 
protection  under  the  lenient  party. 

I  should  say.  Let  the  laws  be  few,  well  defined,  and 
faithfully  executed,  always  having  in  view  the  good  of 
the  governed.  Do  not  suffer  yourself  to  be  provoked 
into  a  promise,  cither  of  punishment  or  indulgence, 


SUPERSTITION.  559 

which  you  do  not  think  right  in  itself,  or  you  will  find 
yourself  under  the  necessity  of  punishing  unjustly,  or 
granting  indulgences  which  may  not  be  for  the  good 
of  the  child,  or  of  appearing  inconsistent,  and  subject 
to  the  charge  of  falling  short  in  your  promise. 


SUPERSTITION. 

THE  fact  that  more  or  less  superstition  is  found  in 
all  countries  and  among  all  kinds  of  people  is  evidence 
at  once  that  there  is  in  human  nature  a  strong  tend- 
ency to  that  condition  of  mind ;  and  it  is  not  true  that 
it  is  confined  to  the  most  ignorant  classes.  Heathen 
mythology  and  the  legends  of  the  Middle  Ages  abun- 
dantly establish  the  fact  that  men  of  education  and  in- 
tellect are  to  be  numbered  with  the  superstitious.  The 
only  remedy  is  found  in  the  revelation  which  God  has 
made  of  himself  and  the  relation  that  he  sustains  to  all 
inferior  beings.  Wherever  the  word  of  God  is  not  in 
the  hands  of  the  people,  you  may  expect  to  find  the 
greatest  evidence  of  the  existence  of  superstition. 

It  is  perfectly  natural  to  man,  when  he  sees  or  hears 
any  thing  that  is  not  within  the  range  of  his  knowl- 
edge or  experience,  to  attribute  it  to  some  supernatural 
agency;  and  this  of  itself  would  lead  the  mind  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  are  beings  so  constituted  as  to  be 
able  to  confer  with  those  who  belong  to  the  future  state, 
and  also  address  themselves  to  the  senses  of  mankind. 
The  general  impression  with  regard  to  such  beings  is 
that  they  are  able  to  make  themselves  visible  or  invis- 
ible at  will;  that  man  cannot  contend  against  them 
with  such  weapons  as  are  generally  employed  in  earthly 
wars;  that  they  are  not  governed  by  any  known  law, 


560  SUPERSTITION. 

and  especially  are  not  subject  to  the  laws  of  nature; 
they  are  generally  regarded  as  possessing  great  wis- 
dom and  a  mysterious  power;  some  of  them  are  good, 
others  bad;  and  yet  the  best  of  them  are  dreaded  by 
the  superstitious. 

There  is  yet  another  variety  of  this  same  thing.  An 
effect  is  seen  and  felt  by  some  poor  mortal,  yet  no  well- 
defined  cause,  or  agent,  of  any  kind  is  understood  or 
perceived.  The  best  explanation  of  this  peculiar  cast 
of  superstition  that  I  am  able  to  give  is  that  there  are 
certain  laws  which  operate  on  man,  producing  a  well- 
defined  result,  while  the  law  itself  remains  hidden  in 
mystery.  Simply  the  thing  is  done,  and  no  one  knows 
how  or  by  whom.  This  peculiar  kind  of  superstition 
is  found  in  our  own  country,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
myself  am  free  from  it.  It  is  one  thing  to  condemn  it 
and  speak  lightly  of  it  in  others,  but  it  is  quite  another 
thing  to  eradicate  it  from  our  own  minds.  There  are 
certain  places  and  times  of  the  day  in  which  it  is  be- 
lieved that  these  generally  invisible  beings  may  be  seen. 
They  never  reveal  themselves  in  the  light  of  day — at 
least,  that  is  not  the  time  when  they  are  looked  for — 
neither  do  we  think  of  finding  them  in  an  open,  smooth 
country;  but  we  expect  them  to  appear  at  night,  and 
we  look  for  them  about  old  waste  houses,  that  arc  re- 
ported to  be  haunted.  The  fact  is,  no  one  likes  to  wan- 
der through  an  old,  deserted  house  at  the  gloomy  hour 
of  midnight.  Just  ask  yourself  how  you  would  like  to 
enter  in  at  that  old,  open  door,  when  the  dim  light  of 
the  feeble  stars  brings  to  view  only  some  of  the  boldest 
outlines  of  the  interior,  and  grope  your  way  from  door 
to  door,  and  from  room  to  room,  and  then  climb  the 
crumbling,  creaking  stair-way,  all  alone;  and  suppose 
the  house  was  said  to  be  haunted!  But  you  say  you 


SUPERSTITION.  561 

do  not  believe  there  are  any  haunted  places.  No  mat- 
ter— we. only  say  it  is  the  popular  belief  that  there  are. 
How  would  you  like  it,  reader?  I,  for  one,  have  no 
fancy  for  such  explorations.  Then  there  is  another 
place  —  the  spot  where  some  person  was  murdered. 
The  report  has  gone  out  that  the  bloody  stains  could 
not  be  washed  away  by  the  rain,  and  that  the  murderer 
was  detected  by  a  man  being  taken  up  on  suspicion, 
and  they  brought  him  to  the  murdered  man,  and  made 
him  touch  the  corpse,  and  the  wounds  instantly  com- 
menced bleeding,  and  that  horses  tremble  with  fright 
when  they  pass  the  place  at  night,  and  that  strange 
sights  and  sounds  have  been  seen  and  heard  there. 
And  then  that  old  grave-yard!  If  there  was  another 
road  just  as  near,  and  it  was  night,  and  you  alone,  do 
you  not  think  you  would  prefer  to  travel  that  way? 
Spirit-rapping,  fortune-telling,  and  other  similar  delu- 
sions, are  all  maintained  by  superstition;  and  then 
there  are  conditions  in  life  that  are  thought  to  be  in 
sympathy  with  mysterious  agencies — such  as  hermits, 
old  women  who  live  alone  and  have  a  great  many  cats 
about  the  house,  and  a  dog  that  howls  every  night. 
There  are  also  certain  circumstances  which  attend  the 
birth  of  children,  that  are  supposed  to  endow  them 
with  a  capacity  of  seeing  spirits;  and  the  seventh  son 
has  a  mystic  power  over  diseases,  and  can  cure  various 
ills  by  means  unknown  to  other  people. 

And  now,  to  the  other  department  of  superstition. 
Do  you  think  Friday  a  bad  day  on  which  to  move  or 
commence  a  journey?  Do  you  find  yourself  trying  to 
see  the  new  moon  without  the  intervention  of  green 
trees?  Do  you  make  a  cross-mark  in  the  road,  and 
spit  in  it,  when  you  forget  something  and  have  to  turn 
back?  Do  you  think  that  meat  diminishes  in  boiling  if 
24* 


562  BISHOP   SOULE. 

killed  in  the  decrease  of  the  moon?  Do  you  think  that 
you  will  lose  a  friend  because  you  dreamed  that  one  of 
your  teeth  dropped  out?  Did  you  ever  send  to  a  faith- 
doctor,  or  bloody  a  nail  against  the  gums  of  your  teeth 
and  drive  it  into  a  tree  to  cure  the  toothache?  Did 
you  ever  measure  yourself  against  the  wall  and  make 
a  mark,  that  you  might  outgrow  the  phthisis?  Did 
you  ever  think  a  child  was  not  long  for  this  world  just 
because  it  said  some  smart  thing  when  it  was  quite 
small?  Do  you  not  sow  your  turnips  in  the  dark  of 
the  moon?  Do  you  believe  in  presentiments — that 
misfortunes  cast  their  shadows  before  them? 


BISHOP  SOULE.* 

MY  good  opinion  of  Bishop  Soule  was  bespoken  be- 
fore I  had  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance.  In  my 
early  ministry,  when  I  was  quite  a  youth,  I  was  se- 
lected by  Bishop  McKendree  as  his  traveling-compan- 
ion, and  was  taken  into  the  confidence  of  that  great 
man  of  God.  He  loved  me  as  a  son,  and  I  esteemed 
him  as  a  father.  I  heard  him  speak  so  often  of  Joshua — 
as  he  always  called  Bishop  Soule — in  terms  so  exalted 
and  complimentary,  both  with  respect  to  his  intellect 
and  purity  of  heart  and  purpose,  that  I  was  prepared 
to  find  in  Bishop  Soule  all  the  elements  of  a  great  and 
good  man ;  and  I  must  confess  that  my  enlarged  expec- 
tations were  more  than  realized.  The  greater  portion 
of  such  great  men,  in  order  to  be  seen  to  advantage, 
have  to  be  viewed  from  a  selected  stand-point,  and 
under  favorable  lights;  but  it  was  not  so  with  our  be- 
loved Bishop.  It  mattered  not  where  the  beholder 

*An  address  before  the  Baltimore  Conference,  1867. 


BISHOP   SOULE.  563 

stood,  or  how  the  light  fell  upon  him,  he  was  always 
seen  to  advantage.  As  a  man,  he  was  highly  endowed — 
nature  was  choice  in  her  bestowments.  If  he  had 
been  proportionately  reduced  in  his  gifts  and  appoint- 
ments to  the  capacity  of  an  inferior  creature,  he  would 
have  been  acknowledged  by  all  animated  nature  a  lion; 
and  it  has  more  than  once  occurred  to  me,  that  if  I  had 
gor.e  with  some  erratic  being,  an  inhabitant  of  some 
other  planet,  who  had  visited  our  earth  to  see  what 
manner  of  beings  were  to  be  found  here  below,  and' 
wished  to  find  a  specimen  of  the  highest  type,  I  should 
have  pointed  out  to  him  Bishop  Soule  as  the  being  he 
was  seeking.  He  was  an  honor  to  our  race,  and  made 
a  near  approach  to  the  perfection  of  humanity  in  the 
entireness  of  human  nature — such  Avas  his  personal  ap- 
pearance, that  in  walking  the  streets  of  New  Orleans 
the  Frenchmen  along  the  pavements  would  shrug  their 
shoulders  and  exclaim,  "Un  grand  gentilhomme ; "  and 
when  walking  through  an  Indian  camp,  these  sons  of 
the  forest  would  say  of  him,  "Estahastted  skigustustio ! " 
—what  a  great  chief!  In  passing  through  the  streets  of 
London,  crowds  have  followed  to  look  at  him,  believing 
that  he  was  Lord  Wellington,  who  was  regarded  as  the 
best  specimen  of  humanity  in  Great  Britain.  I  say 
this  much  with  respect  to  the  person  of  our  Bishop, 
because  many  now  before  me  never  enjoyed  the  privi- 
lege of  seeing  him. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  the  intellect  of  men  dis- 
appoints expectations  created  by  their  personal  appear- 
ance; but  it  was  not  so  with  Bishop  Soule;  intellectu- 
ally he  was  all,  and  more  than,  his  appearance  indicated, 
and  it  was  difficult  to  determine  what  division  of  his 
mental  powers  most  to  admire.  His  perception,  his 
powers  of  analysis,  his  sound  judgment  and  good  taste, 


o64  BISHOP   SOULE. 

all  stood  forth  in  bold  relief.  If  he  had  connected 
himself  with  a  school  of  philosophers,  he  would  have 
been  the  president;  if  he  had  chosen  the  legal  profes- 
sion, he  would  have  been  the  chief-justice;  had  he 
sought  fame  as  a  soldier,  the  highest  position  as  a 
leader  would  have  been  accorded  him  by  his  comrades- 
in-arms;  and  had  he  turned  his  attention  to  finance, 
he  would  have  been  secretary  of  the  nation's  excheq- 
uer. He  was  never  small,  never  trifling,  never  com- 
mon. In  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  he  was  an 
original  thinker;  in  shaping  his  course  or  lajnng  his 
plans,  he  never  looked  for  blazes  or  human  tracks;  with 
him  the  right  way  was  always  the  best — hard  or  easy 
did  not  enter  into  the  estimate  with  him — no  matter 
what  difficulties  might  present  'themselves,  he  always 
took  the  right  way. 

In  regard  to  his  moral  and  religious  character  and 
early  connection  with  the  Methodist  Church,  he  was 
guided  alone  by  a  conviction  of  right;  it  was  not  the 
result  of  nursery-training  or  the  dictation  of  his  par- 
ents, nor  of  scholastic  influence;  so  far  from  it  that  his 
choice  was  opposed  by  his  father,  and  greatly  affected 
his  mother;  he  was  a  Methodist  from  principle.  He 
was  thought  to  be  slow  sometimes  in  coming  to  his 
conclusions;  but  he  always  made  up  his  mind  from  his 
own  convictions,  and  when  his  mind  was  made  up  he 
was  as  firm  as  a  rock;  and  you  will  permit  me  here  to 
observe  that  the  views  and  opinions  which  led  him  to 
make  up  his  mind  as  he  did  in  the  division  of  the 
Church,  in  1844,  were  never  changed  or  departed  from 
even  to  a  hair's  breadth.  He  was  also  a  progressive 
man — always  falling  in  with  such  changes  in  the 
Church  as  were  indicated  by  the  advancements  of  so- 
ciety and  changed  condition  of  the  country;  and  as  he 


BISHOP   SOULE.  565 

grew  old,  he  took  on  none  of  the  acerbity  which  is  too 
common  to  old  age,  but  his  whole  nature  seemed  to  be- 
come more  sweet  and  holy.  It  was  really  refreshing 
to  see  how  he  carried  the  infirmities  of  age — instead 
of  their  operating  upon  him  as  a  disadvantage,  he  wore 
them  as  ornaments. 

But  you  are  particularly  interested  in  hearing  some- 
thing with  respect  to  his  last  hours.  On  the  eve  of 
leaving  my  home  for  this  city,  having  understood  that 
he  was  very  ill,  I  hastened  to  his  bed-side,  and  had 
probably  the  last  connected  conversation  with  him  that 
he  held  with  any  person.  On  reaching  his  house,  the 
brother  who  was  attending  upon  him  told  him  that  I 
was  there  and  wished  to  see  him;  to  which  he  replied 
by  saying,  "Come  in."  I  entered  the  room,  took  him 
by  the  hand,  and  said,  "I  am  sorry  to  find  you  in  bed, 
Bishop."  To  which  he  answered  by  saying,  "Yes,  I 
am  in  bed,  and  of  my  own  accord  will  rise  up  no  more." 
After  conversing  with  him  a  few  moments  with  respect 
to  the  nature  and  character  of  his  attack,  he  said,  "I 
shall  die,  there  is  no  doubt  of  it;  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  get  up  again."  I  at  length  said  to  him:  "I  am 
on  my  way  to  Baltimore,  where  I  shall  see  several  of 
your  colleagues,  and  quite  a  number  of  preachers,  as 
well  as  other  persons,  and  all  will  be  anxious  to  hear 
from  you."  He  lay  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then,  lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  his  breast,  said,  "Tell  them  all  for 
me  that  notwithstanding  this  heart  and  flesh  are  fail- 
ing, my  hope  and  my  faith  arc  as  firm  as  the  rock  of 
ages."  He  farther  told  me  that  there  was  one  hymn 
which  he  thought  he  might  with  propriety  appropriate 
to  himself;  and  on  inquiring  what  hymn  it  was,  he  re- 
plied by  reciting  the  hymn  beginning  with  this  line — 
Servant  of  God,  well  donel 


566  BISIIOP   SOULE. 

and  never  have  I  heard  any  lines  of  human  composi- 
tion enunciated  with  so  much  power  as  in  his  render- 
ing of  the  first  half-stanza,  which  is  as  follows: 

Servant  of  God,  well  done! 

Kest  from  thy  loved  employ  ; 
The  battle  fought,  the  vict'ry  won, 

Enter  thy  Master's  joy. 

In  repeating  the  last  line,  "Enterthy  Master's  joy,"  he 
reached  forth  his  hand  toward  heaven,  his  whole  face 
flamed  with  joy,  while  tears  poured  from  his  eyes,  and 
for  a  moment  laid  upon  his  cheeks.  I  did  not  see  the 
angel-hand  that  dried  them  away;  but  those  were  his 
last  tears — he  will  weep  no  more. 

In  the  course  of  conversation,  reference  was  made  to 
the  length  of  time  he  had  been  serving  God  and  the 
Church;  in  reply  to  which  he  said:  "A  servant  is  one 
who  obeys  his  master,  and  I  have  been  endeavoring 
for  many  j^ears  to  obey  my  Heavenly  Master;  and 
sometimes  the  service  as  rendered  by  myself  seemed 
pretty  hard,  but  no  matter,  I  have  made  it  the  business 
of  my  life  to  obey;  but  my  day  of  service  is  nearly 
closed.  There  is  one  command  which  I  have  not  yet 
obeyed,  for  the  reason  that  it  has  not  been  given." 
"What  command  is  that?  "  asked  a  brother.  "  It  is  this," 
said  the  Bishop,  "'Come  up  higher.'  I  am  waiting  for 
that  command;  it  will  soon  be  given,  and  I  shall  obey 
it."  The  command  did  come,  and  the  Bishop  has  gone 
up,  and  if  there  are  any  such  things  as  heavenly  ush- 
ers. I  should  think  that  he  was  introduced  by  Bishop 
McKendree;  and  I  have  imagined  that  I  saw  him 
placing  the  crown  upon  the  head  of  his  beloved  Joshua, 
as  he  always  called  him. 

Your  names,  my  beloved  fathers  and  brethren,  were 
deeply  and  tenderly  engraven  upon  his  great,  loving 


THE   PULPIT.  567 

heart;  and  O  how  glorious  the  hour  when  he  shall  be 
united  again  with  his  colleagues  and  brethren  whom 
he  so  much  loved ! 


THE  PULPIT. 

I  HAVE  seen  several  articles  lately  on  the  subject  of 
the  power  and  efficiency  of  the  pulpit.  Several  writers 
have  asserted  that  the  pulpit  has  lost  its  power  to  some 
extent.  It  is  not  the  object  of  this  article  to  raise  the 
question  of  correctness  with  regard  to  the  contents  of 
said  articles,  but  to  present  some  views  from  a  different 
stand-point. 

I  have  for  years  held  the  opinion  that  the  pulpit  was 
in  danger  of  a  loss  of  power  from  a  cause  or  causes  not 
taken  into  account  by  any  writer  whose  productions  I 
have  read. 

One  cause  of  the  decline  of  pulpit-power  has  arisen 
from  a  clamor,  on  the  part  of  Church-going  people,  for 
short  sermons.  This  demand  has  been  yielded  to  by 
the  ministry  to  an  extent  which  has,  in  many  congre- 
gations, so  lessened  the  efficiency  of  the  pulpit  as  to 
render  it  almost  powerless  for  good. 

No  great  gospel  truth  can  be  presented,  elaborated, 
and  enforced  in  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes;  and  just  as 
soon  as  there  is  a  conflict  between  the  "service"  and 
the  sermon,  and  the  rights  of  the  latter  are  intrenched 
upon  by  the  former,  the  aggressive  element  will  suffer 
damage,  and,  soon  or  late,  the  Church  will  become 
formal,  and  ultimately  decline;  and  when  other  agen- 
cies shall  be  substituted  in  the  place  of  the  pulpit,  a 
departure  will  be  taken  from  the  plan  adopted  by  the 
great  Head  of  the  Church  for  subduing  and  Christian- 
izing the  world.  An  increased  .interest  may  be  taken 


568  THE    PULPIT. 

in  those  means  and  agencies  by  which  the  Church  is 
to  be  built  up  and  the  cause  of  God  promoted  among 
men — such  as  Sunday-schools,  prayer-meetings,  expe- 
rience-meetings, religious  books  and  periodicals,  all  of 
which  are. very  valuable  in  their  place  —  but  to  substi- 
tute these  for  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  will  defeat 
the  great  object  contemplated.  It  is  by  preaching  the 
gospel  that  the  powers  of  darkness  are  to  be  driven 
back;  by  preaching  Christ  and  him  crucified  the  bat- 
teries of  sin  and  unbelief  are  to  be  silenced,  and  the 
strongholds  of  infidelity  are  to  be  carried;  for  by 
preaching  the  Church  becomes  aggressive  and  drives 
back  the  enemy,  and  opens  the  way  for  other  agencies. 
[t  will  not  do  to  say  that  the  preacher  by  a  lecture  of 
fifteen  minutes  once  a  week  shall  achieve  the  great 
work  which  is  to  be  accomplished  by  the  pulpit.  To 
limit  the  preacher  to  any  particular  number  of  minutes 
is  not  to  be  allowed.  The  preacher  should  have  an  ob- 
ject to  accomplish  in  every  sermon,  and  he,  and  he 
alone,  can  determine  when  that  object  is  accomplished. 
I  should  much  rather  see  the  pulpit  relieved  by  the 
laity  of  all  other  work  or  employment.  Let  the  sing- 
ing, the  public  prayer,  and  all  matters  that  pertain  to 
finance,  be  taken  in  hand  by  others,  and  let  the  preacher 
do  nothing  but  preach  and  attend  to  necessary  pastoral 
work.  To  this  end  let  him  turn  all  his  thoughts,  all 
his  time,  all  his  strength;  let  him  be  handed  from  pul- 
pit to  pulpit,  with  the  everlasting  gospel  to  preach; 
let  every  other  duty  and  obligation  be  taken  from  him, 
and  let  him  be  a  man  of  one  work ;  let  him  go,  and  as  he 
goes  preach;  let  him  preach  Christ  and  him  crucified. 
Then  the  pulpit  will  become  a  power,  and  the  preacher 
a  messenger  sent  from  God,  not  to  serve  tables,  not  to 
take  charge  of  temporal  things,  not  to  settle  abstract 


THE  PULPIT.  569 

and  difficult  questions  in  science,  not  to  discuss  the 
politics  of  the  day;  but  let  him  be  a  man  of  one  work, 
and  let  that  work  be  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  A 
preacher  of  a  partial  consecration  will  never  accom- 
plish the  full  work  of  a  gospel  preacher.  It  is  a  work 
which  requires  all  the  powers  of  mind  and  body,  and 
when  given  up  wholly  to  this  work,  he  may  still  say, 
"  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things?" 

Now,  these  may  be  regarded  by  some  as  extreme 
views,  but  let  the  reader  stop  and  think  of  the  chai-ac- 
ter  of  the  work  to  be  done,  and  then  ask  himself  the 
question,  What  time  will  the  minister  of  Christ  have  to 
appropriate  to  any  other  work? 

One  other  difficulty  which  greatly  diminishes  the  effi- 
ciency of  the  pulpit  at  the  present  day  is  that  a  very 
large  amount  of  what  a  great  many  of  the  preachers 
of  late  years  have  to  say  is  not  heard  by  the  congrega- 
tion. Much  of  the  introductory  service  is  not  heard; 
the  number  of  the  hymn,  the  lessons,  the  first  part  of 
the  prayer,  do  not  reach  the  ear  of  the  congregation. 
The  voice  of  the  preacher  is  keyed  too  low,  while  much 
that  is  said  is  but  a  little  above  a  whisper,  and  then 
there  is  a  struggle  to  hear  the  text.  But  the  difficulty 
in  hearing  is  not  altogether  in  the  lowness  of  the  voice 
of  the  preacher;  it  often  happens  that  while  a  part  of 
a  sentence  is  a  mere  whisper,  another  part  is  a  scream. 
The  words  are  thrown  from  the  lips  of  the  preacher 
like  an  explosion ;  the  sound  rings  in  your  ears  so  as  to 
almost  deafen  you,  but  the  word  spoken  is  not  heard. 
No  long  word  can  be  clearly  spoken  in  a  scream.  If 
preachers  wish  to  be  understood,  they  must  cease  whis- 
pering and  screaming,  and  talk  as  God  has  intended 
and  as  nature  directs.  Artistic  speaking  cannot  be  heard. 

Another  difficulty  is  that  many  words  are  loaded 


570  OLD   BENHADAD. 

down  with  emphasis  till  they  are  lost,  and  the  sense  is 
destroyed.  Learn  to  talk  loud  and  plain,  and  do  not 
sink  down  into  a  graceful  whisper,  nor  raise  your  voice 
until  a  blood-vessel  is  in  danger;  speak  in  a  natural 
tone  of  voice,  never  allowing  it  to  fall  below  that  key, 
and  so  distinctly  that  every  person  in  your  audience 
may  easily  hear  you.  Do  not  try  to  say  too  many 
words  in  one  breath ;  keep  your  lungs  full.  Remember 
that  if  a  word  is  worth  being  spoken  at  all,  it  is  worth 
being  spoken  so  as  to  be  heard.  By  following  this  plan 
you  will  be  listened  to  with  attention,  your  throat  will 
not  be  lacerated,  nor  your  life  prematurely  worn  out. 
I  merely  throw  out  these  hints  because  of  the  many 
complaints  made  by  Church-goers  that  they  cannot 
hear  the  preacher. 


OLD  BENHADAD. 

THERE  are  a  number  of  Church-loafers,  who  think 
that  because  they  belong  to  the  Church  it  must  take 
care  of  them  while  they  live  in  idleness;  and  I  have 
sometimes  met  with  camp-meeting  loafers.  I  distinctly 
remember  one  of  the  latter  class,  with  whom  I  was  quite 
well  acquainted  when  I  was  but  a  boy.  What  his  name 
was  I  never  knew;  the  boys  called  him  Old  Benhadad; 
I  think  I  heard  him  say  once,  about  the  close  of  the 
camp-meeting  season,  that  he  had  been  at  fourteen  that 
summer  and  autumn.  He  was  not  a  preacher,  nor  ex- 
horter,  nor  class-leader;  neither  did  he  pray  in  public, 
and  could  not  sing  at  all.  He  was  a  singular-looking 
creature:  low  in  stature,  and  inclined  to  obesity;  his 
head  was  as  round  as  an  apple,  and  perfectly  bald ;  his 
right  eye  was  much  larger  than  the  left,  which  raised 
the  eyebrow  on  that  side  out  of  line  with  the  other, 


OLD  BENHADAD.  571 

while  the  eye  itself  seemed  to  have  wandered  off  to  the 
right,  as  if  it  had  quarreled  with  its  comrade,  and  had 
resolved  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it.  His  cos- 
tume was  peculiar.  At  that  time  the  round-breasted 
coat,  with  other  garments  to  match,  was  the  prevailing 
fashion ;  but  Old  Benhadad  never  had  a  complete  ward- 
robe, his  clothing  having  been  acquired  piece  by  piece, 
as  he  found  persons  who  were  so  benevolent  as  to  give 
him  half-worn  articles  of  apparel.  His  coat  was  in  the 
proper  style — a  full,  round  breast,  long  in  the  waist, 
the  tails  reaching  down  to  the  calves  of  his  legs.  His 
vest  was  entirely  inconsistent  with  his  coat;  it  was  a 
spotted  velvet,  double-breasted,  rolling  collar,  with 
round,  bright-looking  buttons,  fastened  on  with  rings 
through  the  loops.  His  pantaloons  did  not  approach  a 
fit,  having  been  originally  intended  for  some  person 
who  was  tall  and  slender;  and  Old  Benhadad  being 
fashioned  with  the  contour  of  a  demijohn,  the  panta- 
loons were  remarkably  tight  around  the  waist  and  the 
subjacent  regions,  while  they  were  gathered  in  many 
folds  about  his  feet.  He  had  little  to  say  to  any  person, 
but  was  rarely  absent  from  two  places — the  camp  at 
meal-time,  and  the  stand  when  service  commenced.  As 
he  could  not  assist  in  either  preaching,  praying,  or  sing- 
ing, and  thinking  that  he  ought  to  do  something  to 
help  the  meeting  along,  he  would  at  intervals  make  a 
spring,  jump  as  high  as  ho  could,  throw  up  his  arms, 
and  utter  one  loud  scream,  like  that  of  a  wild  Indian, 
and  gradually  modulate  his  voice  with  the  words,  "O 
Lord,  revive  thy  work  from  the  ends  of  the  rivers  to 
the  ends  of  the  yeath ! "  and  then  resume  his  seat.  This 
he  generally  did  at  the  most  tranquil  moments,  as  he 
knew  that  he  could  not  attract  much  attention  while 
other  people  wore  engaged  in  active  exercises.  Ho  en- 


572  OLD  BENHADAD. 

deavored  to  do  as  much  business  as  he  could  on  a  small 
capital. 

I  shall  never  forget  one  of  his  jumps.  He  was  at- 
tending a  camp-meeting  held  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  M.,  in 
North  Alabama.  Mr.  M.  was  a  superior  preacher,  and 
particularly  gifted  in  superintending  a  camp-meeting. 
In  order  that  one  point  in  this  story  may  be  under- 
stood, it  will  be  necessary  to  make  a  brief  digression. 
In  those  days  camp-meetings  suffered  great  annoyance 
from  persons  who  came  to  them  for  the  purpose  of 
barter  and  trade  in  such  commodities  as  apples,  cider, 
melons,  cakes,  and  whisky.  As  usual,  the  last  article 
caused  the  greatest  trouble;  and  as  it  was  carefully 
concealed  from  persons  in  authority,  the  Rev.  Mr.  M. 
often  said  that  he  did  not  know  how  it  was  that  an 
apple-and-cider  cart  always  bred  whisky.  So  he  de- 
termined to  keep  all  the  traders  away;  but  at  this 
meeting  a  Dutchman  came  to  him,  and  asked  for  per- 
mission to  sell  mead.  Mr.  M.  thought  he  said  meat,  and 
so  he  did;  but  he  intended  to  say  mead,  and  no  doubt 
thought  he  had  said  it  as  plainly  as  anybody  could 
say  it.  Mr.  M.  gave  him  permission,  thinking  that  he 
was  a  butcher,  and  that  the  campers  might  wish  to 
purchase  fresh  meat  from  him.  The  apple-and-cider 
boys  seeing  the  Dutchman  put  up  his  mead  establish- 
ment, thought  the  prohibitory  laws  had  been  repealed, 
and  they  all  commenced  business.  Mr.  M.  had  no  little 
trouble  to  have  them  removed ;  so  that  apples  had  made 
a  strong  impression  on  his  mind. 

Now,  let  us  return  to  our  subject.  It  was  Monday 
night,  and  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  was 
about  to  be  administered.  The  course  of  procedure 
adopted  by  Mr.  M.  was  first  to  read  his  hymn,  then  de- 
liver an  appropriate  address,  then  sing,  and  then  conse- 


OLD   BENHADAD.  573 

crate  the  elements.  He  had  upon  the  hand-board  a 
pitcher  of  water,  a  glass,  two  candles  in  candlesticks,  a 
large  Family  Bible,  a  hymn-book,  and  a  Discipline; 
and  having  finished  reading  his  hymn,  he  had  taken  off 
his  spectacles,  and  laid  them  on  the  hand-board.  The 
hand-board,  as  we  called  it,  was  a  poplar  plank  about 
eight  feet  long,  twelve  inches  wide,  and  one  inch  thick. 
It  was  supported  by  two  or  three  upright  stanchions, 
projecting  about  nine  inches  beyond  them  at  each  end. 
Old  Benhadad  was  seated  on  a  bench  that  was  placed 
close  against  the  pulpit,  and  exactly  under  the  project- 
ing end  of  the  board;  and  just  as  the  preacher  had  laid 
down  his  gold  spectacles  and  hymn-book,  back  upward 
so  as  to  keep  it  open  till  the  time  came  to  sing,  and  was 
taking  a  long  breath  before  commencing  his  address, 
Old  Benhadad  thought  that  was  the  time  for  him,  as  all 
was  still;  so  he  screamed  as  though  he  had  discovered 
the  world  to  be  on  fire,  at  the  same  time  jumping  di- 
rectly upward  with  all  his  might.  He  struck  his  little 
round,  bald  head  against  the  bottom  of  the  plunk,  split- 
ting it  off  from  end  to  end;  and  down  came  plank, 
pitcher,  glass  of  water,  Bible,  hymn-book,  Discipline, 
both  candles,  and  spectacles,  all  tumbling  together. 
The  pitcher  of  water  fell  on  a  lady  and  her  child,  which 
lay  in  her  lap;  the  tumbler  of  water  went  down  the 
back  of  Old  Benhadad,  and  suddenly  arrested  his  "ends 
of  the  river  and  ends  of  the  yeath"  prayer;  for  ho 
never  finished  it.  For  a  moment  no  one  knew  what 
was  coming  next,  till  the  preacher  said,  "Brethren,  can 
you  sing  a  song  until  we  get  fixed  up  again?"  and  sat 
down  beside  a  young  minister  who  was  sitting  in  the 
pulpit.  While  some  persons  were  employed  in  nailing 
up  the  hand-board,  and  gathering  the  scattered  arti- 
cles, Mr.  M.  moved  close  to  the  young  preacher,  and, 


574  OLD   BENHADAD. 

gnawing  his  thumb-nail  (which  was  his  custom  when 
troubled),  he  whispered,  "I  will  give  that  old  fellow  a 
dozen  of  apples  if  he  will  prove  his  attendance  and  go 
home." 

Now,  this  old  man  lived  at  least  six  months  of  the 
year  at  camp-meetings  and  protracted -meetings;  and 
when  one  was  over,  he  had  only  to  go  home  with  some 
brother  to  get  his  shirt  washed  and  his  shoes  greased, 
and  he  was  ready  for  another. 

There  is  yet  another  kind  of  idler,  for  whom  I  can- 
not find  a  better  name  than  the  "  counting-room  loafer." 
I  remember  that  at  one  period  of  my  life  I  came  within 
half  a  degree  of  assuming  this  character  myself.  I 
contracted  the  habit  of  going  every  day,  when  I  was 
not  otherwise  employed,  first  to  the  post-office,  and 
then  to  the  store  of  Mr.  M.,  where  I  would  meet  two  or 
three  kindred  spirits,  and  we  would  talk  and  spin  yarns 
for  hours.  The  thing  that  saved  me  was  this:  I  heard 
that  some  person  had  said  that  if  he  could  get  "  Chip  of 
the  Old  Block"  at  M.'s  store,  comfortably  seated,  with 
his  legs  crossed,  he  would  talk  for  hours.  The  thought 
instantly  occurred  to  me,  "What  do  I  go  to  Mr.  M.'s 
store  for?  I  have  no  business  there,  and  I  shall  not  go 
again  until  I  have."  Mr.  M.*  thought  that  I  had  be- 
come offended,  until  I  had  an  opportunity  to  explain; 
and  from  that  day  to  this  I  have  made  it  a  point  not  to 
go  anywhere  unless  I  had  some  kind  of  business  to 
transact  there. 

There  is  one  stand-point  from  which  a  view  of  the 
character  of  loafers  never  fails  to  affect  me,  and  that  is 
when  an  individual  of  the  lowest  grade  of  the  species 
comes  within  my  observation.  He  has  no  home,  no 
friend,  no  means;  when  he  eats  one  meal,  he  knows 
*The  Rev.  John  Morrow,  an  old  and  valued  friend  of  Dr.  Green. 


THE   MEMOSER.  575 

not  where  he  is  to  get  the  next.  He  knows  not  during 
the  day  where  he  is  to  rest  at  night.  Having  no 
character  to  protect,  he  is  destitute  of  the  stimulants 
that  excite  to  action;  never  repels  an  insult.  And  who 
knows  what  becomes  of  him?  Who  ever  saw  one  of 
this  character  die?  But  they  do  die.  Who  ever  closed 
their  eyes  or  attended  their  funerals?  Where  is  the 
choir  that  sang  their  funeral-hymn,  or  the  church-bell 
that  tolled  their  departure?  Who  ever  saw  the  long, 
slow-moving  line  of  carriages  that  followed  such  a 
one  to  the  grave?  And  where  stands  the  polished 
marble,  throwing  back  the  light  of  the  pale  moon, 
guarding  the  spot  where  the  once  houseless,  homeless, 
friendless  loafer  now  sleeps?  This  recalls  the  familiar* 

stanza: 

Thus  let  me  live,  unseen,  unknown; 

Thus  unlamented  let  me  die; 
Steal  from  the  world,  and  not  a  stone 

Tell  where  I  lie. 


THE  MEMOSER. 

WE  were  talking  of  old  times  in  the  department  of 
old-field  school  education;  and  notwithstanding  the 
improvement  in  system,  and  also  in  teachers,  has  kept 
up  with  the  growth  of  the  country  and  its  institutions, 
yet,  from  the  scenes  of  Sleepy  Hollow  to  the  present 
day,  we  now  and  then  meet  with  one  of  the  descend- 
ants of  Ichabod  Crane. 

Not  many  years  ago  you  might  have  seen  in  one  of 
the  quiet  corners  of  Middle  Tennessee,  near  a  largo 
creek  or  small  river,  a  genuine  old-field  school-house. 
The  country  round  about  was  rather  wild  and  frontier- 


576  THE  MEMOSER. 

like;  the  scenery  was  bold  and  picturesque.  The 
teacher  was  a  regular-built  Buckeye.  He  was  pretty 
well  educated,  sanguine  in  temperament,  very  inquis- 
itive, and  somewhat  ambitious;  and  I  shall  have  no 
better  opportunity  of  introducing  him  than  the  present. 
His  person  was  rather  prepossessing,  of  medium  size, 
fair  skin,  blue  eyes,  light  hair,  with  clean-shaved  face; 
not  what  the  ladies  would  call  a  fancy-man — not  being 
particularly  devoted  to  dress,  yet  he  was  good-looking. 
He  had  traveled  but  little,  and  had  not  mixed  much 
with  the  world;  and  being  confiding  in  disposition  and 
sanguine  in  temperament,  was  rather  easily  imposed 
upon.  He  was  boarding  with  a  Mr.  E.,  a  plain,  quiet, 
old-fashioned  man,  of  very  few  words,  and  apparently 
not  the  least  inclined  to  any  thing  like  a  joke. 

On  the  river  a  few  miles  above  Mr.  E.,  there  lived  a 
Mr.  D.,  who  had  put  a  fish-trap  into  the  stream,  and 
soon  discovered  that  his  own  negroes,  together  with 
those  of  his  neighbors,  were  taking  all  the  fish  out. 
In  order  to  keep  the  negroes  away  from  his  trap  he 
raised  a  story  and  circulated  it  among  the  colored  peo- 
ple, to  the  effect  that  there  was  a  kind  of  amphibious 
animal,  half  fish  and  half  beast,  that  inhabited  the 
caves  along  the  river,  of  which  there  were  quite  a  num- 
ber. He  called  this  mysterious  animal,  or  monster,  a 
"memoscr;"  represented  it  as  of  prodigious  strength, 
and  fearless,  and  that  it  had  a  great  love  for  fish  and 
human  flesh,  especially  negro  flesh;  he  also  repre- 
sented it  as  a  great  feeder — that  it  would  eat  a  fish-trap 
full  of  fish  at  one  time,  and  that  a  dead  negro  would 
not  make  more  than  two  meals;  that  it  was  not  dan- 
gerous so  much  on  account  of  its  bad  temper  as  its  ap- 
petite, and  just  as  soon  as  it  came  across  any  thing  it 
liked  it  would  begin  to  eat  at  once,  and  although  yon 


THE    MEMOSER.  577 

fought  with  all  your  might,  it  would  still  eat  on ;  and 
that  by  the  time  a  body  was  half  eaten  up,  he  would 
be  mighty  apt  to  die;  and  he  farther  gave  out  as  a  rea- 
son why  a  certain  negro  who  had  been  drowned  in  the 
stream  a  short  time  before  could  not  be  found,  that  the 
memoser  hud  gotten  him.  This  stratagem  was  suc- 
cessful— the  fish -trap  was  protected.  Not  long  after 
this  Mr.  R.  built  a  fish-trap,  and  having  heard  of  Mr. 
D.'s  plan  of  protecting  his  fish,  took  advantage  of  the 
presence  of  a  number  of  his  own  servants  one  evening 
to  tell  about  the  strange  animal  that  had  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  the  river,  and  of  its  love  for  fish  and  negro 
flesh,  and  how  the  black  folks  were  alarmed  about  it 
up  at  Mr.  D.'s;  reciting  the  matter  so  gravely  and  so 
much  like  history,  that  the  school-master — who  was 
present — believed  it  as  firmly  as  the  negroes.  This 
school-master — whom  we  shall  call  Mr.  Sloaps — at  last 
began  to  make  inquiries  about  the  animal,  and  soon 
came  to  see  both  money  and  reputation  in  it,  believing 
it  no  small  achievement  to  add  a  new  animal  to  the 
acknowledged  list  of  God's  creatures,  and  thereby  be 
a  contributor  to  natural  history;  for  he  said  that  the 
creature  was  not  laid  down  in  any  of  the  books;  and 
farther,  that  he  had  no  doubt  that  he  could  get  a  large 
sum  of  money  for  one  of  them  from  some  museum  in 
the  eastern  cities. 

Mr.  R.  discovering  that  Mr.  Sloaps  had  taken  the 
whole  story  as  a  verity,  determined  to  see  what  he 
could  make  out  of  him,  and  went  on  to  tell  Sloaps  that 
he  did  not  want  to  be  fooling  with  any  such  monster; 
the  idea  of  being  caught  by  it  and  one-half  of  him  to 
be  eaten  for  supper,  and  the  rest  to  be  borne  off  to 
some  watery  cave  for  the  beast  to  make  his  breakfast 
off  of,  did  not  suit  him.  Mr.  S.  said  that  he  would  not 
25 


578  THE   MEMOSER. 

be  the  least  afraid  of  it  if  he  had  a  good  gun.  Mr. 
E.  had  as  good  a  gun  as  was  ever  fired,  but  was  not  a 
very  good  shot  himself;  but  if  Sloaps  would  take  the 
gun  and  risk  it,  some  night  after  the  fish  began  to  run 
they  would  go  to  the  trap  and  see  what  could  be  done. 
This  was  agreed  to.  Mr.  E.  made  his  plans  known  to 
his  overseer  and  his  wife,  and  none  else.  The  trap 
was  made  to  take  fish  as  they  descended  the  stream, 
and  such  traps  are  mainly  successful  in  the  autumn; 
the  fish,  running  up  in  the  spring  to  spawn  and  raise 
their  young,  return  to  deeper  streams  for  winter-quar- 
ters. Mr.  E.'s  plan  was  that  the  overseer,  without  the 
knowledge  of  Sloaps,  should  go  up  the  stream  above 
the  traps,  and,  throwing  himself  into  the  river,  come 
down  and  enter  the  trap  in  his  own  way,  and  receive 
the  fire  of  Sloaps,  which  was  to  be  nothing  more  than 
a  small  portion  of  powder  and  a  light  paper  wad;  for 
Mr.  E.  was  to  load  the  gun  with  great  care  for  Sloaps. 

At  length  there  came  a  little  swell  in  the  river,  and 
it  was  thought  there  would  be  a  sufficient  number  of 
fish  coming  into  the  trap  to  tempt  the  memoser  to  pay 
it  a  visit,  so  the  double-barreled  shot-gun  was  loaded, 
and  Mr.  E.  and  Sloaps  started  for  the  river.  At  the 
point  where  the  trap  was  put  in,  the  river  was  seventy 
yards  wide,  and  the  trap  was  about  midway,  and 
reached  by  a  canoe.  The  water  below  the  dam  was 
some  five  feet  deep,  with  a  pretty  strong  current.  The 
river-shore  was  a  bluff  clay  bank,  about  ten  feet  high, 
but  at  the  canoe-landing  the  water  was  approached  by 
a  deep,  narrow  cut. 

The  night  was  dark,  but  by  the  use  of  the  canoe  E. 
and  Sloaps  made  their  way  to  the  trap,  and  there  they 
sat  waiting  for  the  memoser.  At  length  here  it  came 
down  the  stream,  growling  and  plunging  at  a  dreadful 


THE   MEMOSER.  579 

rate.  The  overseer  thinking  that,  as  the  water  in  the 
river  was  yet  low,  the  fall  into  the  trap  might  be  so 
great  as  to  cut  and  bruise  him,  went  to  the  shore,  re- 
turned to  where  he  had  left  his  clothes,  put  them  on, 
and  made  his  way  home.  Mr.  E.  told  Sloaps,  after  the 
memoser  disappeared,  that  there  were  generally  two 
of  them — an  old  and  a  young  one;  that  the  young  one 
was  a  little  timid,  but  the  old  one  was  not  afraid  of 
any  thing;  and  he  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  young 
one  they  saw  that  night,  and  they  might  look  out  for 
the  old  one  the  next  night.  So  they  returned  home 
and  reported.  By  the  next  night  the  river  had  swollen 
so  as  to  make  the  fall  into  the  trap  perfectly  safe.  Im- 
mediately after  dark  Mr.  E.  and  Sloaps  were  again  on 
the  spot — Sloaps  on  the  trap,  with  his  gun  all  read}*, 
and  E.  sitting  on  one  of  the  main  timbers  that  sup- 
ported it,  holding  the  cable  of  the  canoe  in  his  hand. 
The  night  was  dark,  save  here  and  there  a  beam  from 
a  star  would  struggle  through  the  trees  that  lined  the 
shore.  At  length  here  came  the  memoser,  and  no  mis- 
take, plunging,  growling,  and  snapping.  Said  E.,  "He 
is  coming."  "I  hear  him,"  said  Sloaps.  "Be  certain 
that  you  make  a  sure  shot."  "Never  mind;  let  him 
come,  and  I'll  give  him  goss!" 

Closer  and  closer  it  came;  and  E.  said  that  although 
he  knew  who  it  was,  yet  the  darkness  of  the  night,  the 
angry  growl,  and  the  heavy  plunges,  all  taken  together, 
made  it  a  frightful  sort  of  business. 

Just  as  the  memoser  reached  the  fall  of  the  trap,  Mr. 
E.  threw  the  cable  into  the  canoe,  jumped  into  it  him- 
self, and  made  for  the  shore,  screaming  to  Sloaps  to 
save  himself,  if  he  could.  Sloaps  fired  one  barrel,  but 
without  effect.  A  moment  more,  and  the  other  barrel 
was  discharged.  Still  the  monster  was  unhurt.  Sloaps, 


580  THE   MEMOSER. 

with  a  wild,  despairing  wail,  threw  the  gun  one  way, 
and  jumped  as  far  as  he  could  in  the  opposite  direction 
into  the  river;  but  he  had  hardly  struck  the  water  be- 
fore the  memoser  was  in  close  behind  him,  almost 
ready  to  lay  hold  on  him.  He  tried  swimming,  and 
jumping,  and  all  kinds  of  modes,  so  as  to  get  on,  and 
finally  reached  the  bank  some  twenty  yards  below  the 
canoe-landing,  but  happened  to  strike  it  where  a  large 
sycamore-tree  had  thrown  out  a  number  of  roots,  which 
he  took  advantage  of,  and  in  an  almost  miraculous  man- 
ner made  his  way  to  the  top  of  the  bank.  To  go  to 
the  path  which  led  out  from  the  canoe-landing  would 
have  been  twenty  yards  out  of  his  way,  and  as  the  me- 
moser was  almost  up  the  bank,  he  concluded  that 
nothing  but  a  bee-line  would  save  him,  and  that  ran 
through  a  dark,  swampy  bottom,  into  which  he  plunged 
like  a  wild  beast.  He  had  already  lost  his  gun  and  hat 
in  the  river,  and  had  not  proceeded  far  before  he  struck 
his  foot  against  a  log,  and  fell  headlong,  running  his 
arms  into  the  mud  up  to  his  elbows.  Here  he  lost  his 
shoes;  but  what  of  that?  it  only  increased  his  flight. 
After  leaving  the  swamp  he  had  to  pass  through  a  nar- 
row lane,  in  which  a  number  of  cows  were  lying,  and 
aiming  to  spring  over  one  of  them,  the  cow  at  the  same 
moment  getting  up,  brought  his  feet  in  contact  with 
her  back,  which  turned  him  a  complete  somersault; 
but  he  was  up  and  off  in  a  moment.  The  gate  was 
passed,  and  knowing  the  front-door  was  locked,  and 
having  no  time  to  wait  for  it  to  be  opened,  he  made  for 
the  back-door,  but  seeing  the  kitchen-door  open,  and 
it  being  a  little  nearer  than  the  other,  he  pitched  into 
the  kitchen  among  the  negroes,  who  were  already  in  a 
state  of  alarm  about  the  memoser,  knowing  that  Mr. 
Sloaps  and  master  had  gone  to  try  and  kill  it.  Sloaps 


THE    MEMOSER.  581 

was  a  frightful-looking  object— no  hat,  no  shoes,  wet, 
and  covered  with  mud.  He  was  so  out  of  breath  that 
he  could  not  speak ;  his  lungs  were  working  like  an  old 
rickety  engine ;  all  that  he  could  say  for  some  time  was, 
"Olaw!  Ah  me!"  The  negroes,  almost  scared  to  death, 
began  to  scream,  which  brought  in  Mrs.  K.,  who  in- 
quired, "What  in  the  world  is  the  matter?"  By  this 
time  Sloaps  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  speak  a  few- 
words,  and  answered,  "It  came." 

"What  came?"  asked  Mrs.  R. 

"The  old  one,"  said  Sloaps. 

"Where  is  your  gun?" 

"In  the  river." 

"And  where  are  your  hat  and  shoes?" 

He  did  not  know. 

"Where  is  my  husband?" 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "it's  got  him;  the  last  time  I  heard 
him  he  was  hollerin'  mighty  weak." 

When  poor  Sloaps  heard  that  it  was  all  a  trick,  ho 
sloped  from  that  neighborhood. 

When  I  am  at  home  I  have  the  honor  to  belong  to  an 
angling  club,  the  members  of  which  go  once  a  year  on 
a  camp-angling  trip  into  the  iron  hills  of  Tennessee. 
On  a  certain  occasion,  as  we  sat  around  the  camp-fire, 
I  related  to  the  party  the  story  of  Mr.  Sloaps  and  the 
memoser.  There  was  one  present  who  was  a  sort  of 
fixture  among  us;  his  name  was  Dick — a  servant  be- 
longing to  a  member  of  the  club,  generally  known  as 
Uncle  Nick.  Dick  caught  points  of  the  story  here  and 
there,  and  being  strongly  tinctured  with  a  love  of  the 
marvelous,  it  required  no  effort  of  his  faith  to  believe 
it;  and  there  were  many  things  on  the  stream  in  which 
we  were  angling  that  would  justify  the  idea  that  the 
memoser  might  be  found  there.  The  banks  were  very 


582  THE   MEMOSER. 

much  burrowed  by  the  great  number  of  amphibious 
animals  which  there  abounded,  and  in  the  bluffs  were 
numerous  caves  and  dens.  Within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  the  camp  was  an  old  rickety  mill,  all  tied  up 
with  strings,  like  a  negro's  gourd  banjo,  and  connected 
with  the  machinery  was  an  alarm.  The  mill  ground 
so  slowly  that  the  miller,  who  was  also  a  farmer,  could 
not  afford  to  keep  any  person  waiting  upon  it;  so  when 
he  had  put  up  a  turn  he  would  go  off  to  superintend  his 
farming  operations.  When  the  grist  was  reduced  to 
about  a  half  bushel,  the  hopper  would  rise  about  one 
inch,  bringing  an  old  saw-blade  in  contact  with  the 
runner,  and  producing  the  most  unearthly,  incompar- 
able, whizzing,  hissing,  grating  sounds  that  have  ever 
been  heard  by  mortal  ears. 

During  our  stay  at  this  camp,  we  all  agreed  one  night 
to  go  and  fish  awhile.  A  large  portion  of  the  club 
went  to  a  favorite  point  some  distance  off,  while  Uncle 
Nick,  Dick,  and  myself,  went  to  the  mill.  The  stream, 
pitching  over  the  dam,  had  washed  out  a  pool  just  be- 
low, in  the  form  of  nearly  one-third  of  a  circle.  Uncle 
Nick  took  his  position  on  the  outer  point  of  this  circle, 
I  about  midway,  and  Dick  close  to  the  mill.  Between 
Dick  and  myself,  lining  the  water's  edge,  was  a  thick 
growth  of  sycamore-bushes  about  ten  feet  high,  and 
communication  between  the  two  points  was  effected  by 
a  small  path  which  lay  near  a  rocky  bluff.  As  night 
came  on,  the  sun  seemed  to  hasten  as  though  he  wished 
to  get  as  far  away  as  possible;  the  moon  had  gone 
round  to  see  what  the  people  in  China  were  doing;  the 
stars  had  put  on  mourning  in  the  drapery  of  murky 
clouds;  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  light  in  the  world 
save  the  ghastly,  flickering  glare  of  Uncle  Nick's  tin 
lantern.  Truly  the  night  was  inky  black,  and  all  nat- 


THE    MEMOSER.  583 

ure  seemed  dead,  except  the  roar  of  the  water  over  the 
dam,  and  the  rumbling  of  the  old  mill-wheel,  which 
went  reeling  and  staggering  around  like  a  drunkard. 
All  at  once  the  alarm  commenced,  and  it  occurred  to 
me  that  it  would  frighten  Dick  if  he  did  not  know  what 
it  was;  for  the  memoser  story  was  fresh  upon  his  mind. 
I  looked  over,  by  the  aid  of  Uncle  Nick's  lantern,  and 
there  stood  Dick,  looking,  with  all  the  eyes  and  light 
that  he  had,  in  about  the  mill-wheel,  whence  the  noise 
seemed  to  proceed.  At  length,  turning  toward  his  mas- 
ter, he  said,  "Massa  Nick,  do  you  hear  dis  ting  here?" 
His  master  paid  him  no  attention.  He  then  thought  I 
was  the  next  best  chance,  and  he  asked  me,  "Do  you 
hear  dis  ting?"  At  that  moment  there  was  a  little 
breath  of  air,  which  seemed  to  increase  all  sounds,  and 
I  remarked,  "  Dick,  it  seems  to  be  getting  closer  to  you." 
That  was  enough ;  he  dropped  his  pole,  and  dashed  like 
a  wild  boar  into  the  thicket ;  whether  he  went  through, 
or  over,  or  under  the  bushes,  I  could  not  tell.  He  was 
the  worst  scared  negro  I  have  ever  seen,  and  to  this 
day  he  believes  that  it  was  the  memoser;  nor  could  ho 
ever  afterward  be  induced  to  fish  near  that  mill  at  night. 
On  one  occasion,  when  talking  to  him  about  going  there 
to  fish  at  night,  he  said  that  if  he  was  taken  there  at 
all,  he  would  have  to  be  taken  dead. 


POETRY. 

THE  REV.  S.  D.  BALDWIN,  D.D.* 

r  I  ^HE  wing  of  death  was  o'er  the  city  spread, 
_1_   And  anxiously  the  hearts  of  thousands  throbbed; 
While  some  had  fled,  as  Lot,  and  left  the  plains, 
In  which,  of  old,  devoted  Sodom  stood. 
Others  remained,  but  not  without  their  fears, 
For  'twas  no  common  foe  that  might  be  met 
With  glittering  sword,  and  spear,  and  shield. 
The  smile,  the  merry  laugh  of  gladdened  hearts, 
Like  injured  friends,  were  seen  and  heard  no  more. 
The  bench,  the  box,  the  bar,  were  left  alone, 
The  pris'ner  to  his  gloomy  cell  returned, 
And  litigation's  dusty  hall  was  closed, 
While  strangely  quiet  grew  the  market-place; 
The  business  man,  with  measured  step,  and  slow, 
In  silent  mood  went  to  his  place  of  trade; 
And  cautiously  he  oped  his  sullen  door, 
As  though  the  foe  in  hidden  corner  dwelt; 
And  now  with  match  or  flaming  taper  lit, 
To  drive  it  forth  he  disinfectant  burned. 
Both  thought  and  feeling  were  all  kindred  now, 
And  fell  in  line  like  soldiers  under  drill; 
And  every  man  by  sad  impulses  knew 
The  thoughts  and  feelings  of  his  neighbor's  heart. 
But  some  there  were  whose  business  'twas  to  see 
The  sick,  and  such  as  friendless  were, 
Who  lay  within  the  monster's  deadly  grasp. 

*  Commemorative  of  hrs  death  by  cholera,  in  Nashville,  1866. 

(584) 


THE    REV.    S.    D.    BALDWIN,    D.D.  585 

The  skillful  master  of  the  healing  art, 
The  man  of  prayer  and  minister  of  God: 
These,  with  the  gloomy,  slowly-moving  hearse, 
And  such  as  to  the  grave  went  with  their  dead, 
And  those  who  bore  prescriptions  to  the  sick, 
Mainly  make  up  the  signs  of  life  without. 
Thus  passed  the  long,  the  sad,  the  weary  days. 
At  night  the  pestilence  in  violence  grew: 
Men  were  afraid  to  sleep  lest  they  might  wake 
And  find  themselves  within  its  deadly  grasp. 
Protecting  nostrums  on  each  mantel  stood, 
And  fires  were  kindled  on  the  summer  hearth, 
And  lighted  lamps  and  jet's  were  left  to  burn 
Throughout  the  dark  and  lonely  hours  of  night; 
And  prayers  were  whispered  by  unpracticed  tongues. 

But  there  was  one  who  was  well  known  by  all 
By  his  devotion  to  the  sick  and  poor. 
Nightly  the  ring  of  old  McKendree's  bell 
Brought  out  the  anxious  multitudes  to  prayer, 
And  scores  did  at  the  sacred  altar  bow, 
And  prayed,  and  wept,  and  made  their  peace  with  God. 
This  faithful  watchman  stood  on  Zion's  walls, 
And  long  and  loud  the  gospel-trumpet  blew, 
Complaining  not  until  his  strength  gave  way; 
But  still  the  sick,  the  poor,  his  presence  claimed, 
And  consolation  such  as  conies  alone 
From  promises  in  God's  most  holy  word ; 
And  for  their  good  alone  he  overdrew 
Upon  his  time,  his  rest,  his  health,  his  strength. 
The  fell  destroyer's  power  at  length  was  staid, 
The  sick  were  mostly  convalescent  now, 
And  men  began  to  feel  the  worst  was  past; 
And  now  it  was  this  faithful  man  of  God 
Was  heard  to  say,  "The  calls  on  me  are  few; 
The  sufferers  now,"  he  said,  "are  lessening  fast; 
I  hope  and  trust  that  I  shall  rest  to-night." 
At  the  appointed  time  he  thanked  his  God, 
And  laid  him  down  upon  his  bed  to  rest, 


586  THE   REV.    S.    D.   BALDWIN,    D.D. 

But  ere  the  rosy  dawn  he  woke  and  found 

The  dark-winged  angel's  shadow  o'er  him  spread: 

He  felt  the  deadly  damps,  and  he  was  sick — 

The  faithful  minister  of  God  was  sick. 

From  lip  to  lip  the  sad  news  passed  along, 

And  ere  the  day  grew  old  this  truth  was  known 

Throughout  the  Church,  and  far  beyond  it  flew, 

For  all  that  knew  him  loved  him  ardently, 

And  few  there  were  to  whom  he  was  not  known. 

Physicians  to  his  side  in  haste  repaired, 

And  thought  with  care  he  soon  would  be  relieved. 

This  was  the  holy  Sabbath  of  the  Lord; 

The  church-bell  loudly  rang,  as  was  its  wont, 

To  herald  forth  the  blessed  hour  of  prayer: 

The  faithful  shepherd  did  not  meet  his  flock — 

They  hoped  and  prayed  that  he  might  soon  be  well; 

But  on  the  morrow  he  grew  worse  again. 

The  Church  and  all  his  friends  were  anxious  now, 

And  as  one  heart  the  common  feeling  shared; 

Uncalled  physicians  quickly  came,  and  went, 

And  tarried  long  beside  the  good  man's  bed; 

While  in  the  mart,  and  all  along  the  streets, 

Each  man  you  met  with  deepest  interest  asked, 

How  stands  the  case  with  our  loved  pastor  now? 

The  growing  interest  reached  the  city's  heart, 

And  orders  came  that  no  disturbing  wheels 

Should  by  his  dwelling  pass,  that  he  might  rest; 

While  softly  those  within,  with  feet  unshod, 

Passed  gently  through  his  room  and  round  his  bed; 

While  those  who  gifted  are  with  power  to  heal 

Each  symptom  watched,  with  unabated  care, 

His  tongue,  his  skin,  his  breathing,  and  his  pulse, 

And  warmed  his  blood  with  artificial  heat, 

And  scathing  blisters  drew,  but  all  in  vain. 

The  foe  was  now  intrenched,  and  had  the  range, 

And  could  not  be  by  human  power  dislodged; 

E'en  faithful  prayer  was  unavailing  now. 

Death  was  the  sick  man's  wish  and  God's  decree ! 


THE   REV.    S.    D.    BALDWIN,   D.D.  587 

'Twas  said  at  length,  His  strength  is  giving  way, 

His  skin  is  growing  cold,  his  breathing  short, 

His  weak  and  struggling  pulse  more  faintly  beats, 

While  the  chilled  blood  is  stealing  round  the  heart, 

In  circles  constantly  diminishing. 

Now  hastened  to  his  side  a  long-tried  friend, 

To  whom  for  years  he  had  united  been 

By  ties  which  naught  but  Christian  friendship  makes, 

And  bowing  down  beside  the  sick  man's  bed, 

They  thus  together  talked,  and  wept,  and  prayed. 

"  How  is  my  brother  now  ?"  he  kindly  asked. 
The  man  of  God  then  oped  his  languid  eyes, 
Inclined  his  head,  and  recognition  gave, 
And  to  the  question,  "  Dost  thou  suffer  much  ?" 
In  gentle  tones,  "  Not  much,"  was  his  reply. 

"How  is  the  inner  man,  th'  immortal  soul?" 
With  heavenly  smile,  "In  perfect  health,"  he  said; 

"Ah!  all  is  right  in  that  department  now." 
'Twas  then  a  sleepless  friend,  who  vigils  kept 
By  day  and  night,  with  more  than  brother's  care, 
Softened  his  lips  with  a  few  drops  of  wine, 
To  give  him  strength  and  aid  his  feeble  speech. 
When  this  was  done  he  calmly  spoke  these  words: 

"  I'll  drink  it  in  my  Father's  kingdom  new — 
The  fullness  of  that  promise  is  unknown !  " 
And  then  we  prayed  that  God  would  safely  lead 
His  faithful  servant  through  the  vale  of  death. 
A  silence  now  ensued — the  sick  man  lay 
With  eyes  intent  on  objects  seen  by  none 
Save  those  whom  God  hath  blessed  with  gifted  sight. 
A  friend  then  ask'd,  "  How  are  thy  thoughts  employed  ?" 

"Expanding  glories  of  the  future  state 
Are  full  in  view,"  he  said ;  "  I  see  them  now ! " 
His  eyes  now  calmly  closed,  he  spake  no  more. 
Then  every  sense  was  shut  on  earthly  things, 
And  opened  on  his  mansion  in  the  sky; 
He  now  wan  standing  on  the  flowery  mount, 
Viewing  tho  land  of  Boulah  and  the  scenes  beyond — 


588  THE    REV.    ELISIIA   CARR. 

The  throne  of  God,  the  pilgrim's  final  home. 
Twas  here  he  met  God's  angels  from  above,    • 
And  heard  his  Saviour  call,  Up  higher  come! 
He  dropped  the  sickle  from  his  trembling  hand, 
And  gathering  up  his  numerous  sheaves, 
And  with  the  victor's  shout  upon  his  tongue, 
He  passed  beyond  the  everlasting  hills, 
And  only  left  his  shattered  tent  behind. 
But  still  we  have  his  dust;  it  sleeps  beside 
The  dearly  loved  companion  of  his  youth. 
They  were  united  while  they  lived  on  earth, 
And  not  divided  are  they  now  in  death. 


THE  REV.  ELISHA  CARR. 

WELL  done,  faithful  pilgrim,  thy  labors  are  o'er ; 

No  longer  shalt  thou  o'er  a  fallen  world  weep; 
Thy  prayers  and  thy  teachings,  we'll  hear  them  no  more; 

Thy  day's  work  is  done,  its  reward  thou  shalt  reap. 

We'll  miss  thee,  my  brother,  we'll  miss  thee  at  prayer; 

Thy  voice  round  the  altar  we'll  ne'er  hear  again; 
To  our  home  in  the  dust  thou  wilt  no  more  repair ; 

Thou  art  gone  to  the  land  of  the  blest  to  remain ! 

You'll  be  missed  by  the  orphans,  you'll  be  missed  by  the.poor; 

For  advice  and  for  comfort  they'll  now  look  in  vain; 
Your  footprints  no  more  we  shall  trace  to  their  door, 

Where  sorrowing  hearts  are  throbbing  with  pain. 

You '11  be  missed  by  the  children,  the  lambs  of  the  fold; 

They  knew  you,  and  loved  you,  and  hung  on  your  word ; 
They'll  treasure  your  counsels  as  jewels  of  gold, 

While  mem'ry  shall  cherish  the  lessons  they  've  heard. 

You  '11  be  missed  by  the  prisoners  in  gloom,  and  alone, 
Your  counsels  and  prayers  they  will  no  longer  hear, 

With  promises  bright  and  as  cheering  as  noon, 
When  no  other  friend  or  comfort  was  hear. 


THE   REV.    G.  W.   D.   HARRIS,   D.D.  589 

You'll  be  missed  by  the  widow,  with  lone  bleeding  heart, 
All  crushed  by  bereavement,  in  grief  left  alone, 

While  her  throbbing  breast  heaves  as  tho'  pierced  with  a  dart, 
While  the  bright  sun  of  life  set  in  darkness  at  noon. 


THE  REV.  G.  W.  D.  HARRIS,  D.D.* 

FORTY-EIGHT  years  ago  I  saw  him  stand 
Amid  his  brethren  in  the  house  of  God, 
To  pledge  himself  to  God's  most  holy  cause, 
To  bear  the  tidings  of  redeeming  love 
Unto  a  world  that  by  transgression  fell; 
And  to  each  question  asked  he  answers  gave 
Which  proved  to  all  that  he  had  been  with  God, 
And  had  been  chosen  to  proclaim  his  word; 
And  heaven  and  earth  agreed,  as  with  one  voice, 
To  send  him  forth  a  herald  of  the  cross. 
And  then  and  there  he  put  his  armor  on, 
And,  sword  in  hand,  he  rushed  into  the  fight, 
And  ne'er  put  off  his  sword,  or  armor  by, 
Till  Heaven  said,  "Well  done!  it  is  enough!" 
He  was  well  suited  to  his  holy  work; 
He  bore  the  marks  of  manhood  in  his  prime; 
His  head  was  clear,  his  heart  was  right  with  God. 
His  will,  that  gives  support  to  other  powers, 
Was  strong  as  is  the  pure  and  hammered  steel. 
He  sought  no  easy  berth  from  toil  and  strife, 
But  pressed  the  center  of  the  common  foe. 
He  made  no  terms  with  sin  but  to  repent, 
And  in  the  name  of  Christ  a  pardon  find. 
With  flesh  and  blood  he  never  did  confer, 
Or  flee  the  burdens  which  his  brethren  bore. 
In  action  he  was  true  as  truth  itself, 
And  yet  he  was  as  just  as  he  was  true. 
It  may  be  said  he  was  a  leader  born — 
Prompt  in  command,  but  ready  to  obey. 
*  Written  on  the  occasion  of  his  denth. 


590  LONELINESS. 

To  save  the  lost  was  his  intense  desire; 

And  to  accomplish  this  he  wavered  not 

Because  of  length  of  road,  or  winter's  day. 

He  plunged  the  streams,  and  braved  the  stormy  blast, 

To  preach  the  gospel  to  the  humble  poor ; 

No  firmer  hand  ere  grasped  the  battle-flag. 

He  feared  not  wicked  men  nor  savage  beasts, 

Nor  changed  his  course  to  follow  beaten  paths; 

He  was  a  leader,  and  spied  out  his  way. 

Uncertain  sounds  his  trumpet  never  gave, 

Nor  wasted  strength  in  battling  with  the  wind. 

His  voice  was  strong  and  clear,  his  manner  grand; 

His  words  were  chosen  well — each  in  its  place — 

The  burden  of  his  theme  the  cross  of  Christ. 

He  warned  the  sinner  of  his  dreadful  end, 

And  lit  the  pathway  of  the  child  of  God 

With  Heaven's  promise  of  a  rich  reward. 

He  labored  not  in  vain:  God  was  with  him, 

And  from  his  trump  rang  notes  of  victory. 

But  when  I  saw  him  last  on  Zion's  walls, 

His  locks  were  thin,  his  native  strength  well  spent. 

He  blew  a  bugle-note  of  victory; 

It  was  his  last;  his  work  on  earth  was  done, 

And  ere  one  week  had  passed  away  and  gone, 

He  heard  the  call  from  labor  to  reward. 

He  sowed  in  tears,  but  now  he  reaps  in  joy. 

His  parchment,  now  as  free  from  blot  or  stain 

As  the  untrodden  snow  from  polar  skies, 

He  rendered  up,  and  in  its  stead  received 

A  fadeless  crown  of  life  at  God's  right-hand. 


LONELINESS. 

I  WOULD  not  be  a  lonely  star, 

Of  ancient  birth  and  brilliant  light, 
To  shine  alone  on  empty  air 

The  live-long  night. 


LINES   ON   LERISSA   HUGHES.  591 

I  would  not  be  a  lonely  flower, 

Of  odor  sweet  and  lovely  hue, 
To  rest  my  head  on  some  lone  bower, 

And  drink  the  dew. 

I  would  not  be  a  lonely  dove, 

Of  plumage  soft  and  plaintive  song — 

0  had  I  not  a  friend  to  love, 
Life  would  be  long! 

1  would  not  be  a  lonely  saint, 

Though  heaven  itself  should  be  my  own ; 
Without  a  friend  my  heart  would  faint, 
Thus  left  alone. 


LINES  ON  LERISSA  HUGHES. 

THE  mountain-oak  within  its  native  wood, 

How  strong  its  trunk !  how  deep  it  dips  its  roots 

Among  the  ancient  rocks  or  solid  earth, 

Like  anchors  cast  within  the  ocean  depth, 

To  hold  the  bark  amid  the  raging  storm! 

See  how  it  lifts  its  proud,  defiant  head, 

With  arms  unfolded  wide  to  catch  the  breeze, 

Or  drink  the  dew,  or  kiss  the  light  of  morn! 

It  withered  not  because  of  summer's  heat, 

Nor  did  it  fail  amid  the  winter's  cold; 

It  rocked  beneath  the  heavings  of  the  storm, 

But  yet  its  well-laid  anchors  held  it  fast, 

And  yielded  not,  but  still  the  storm  defied. 

At  last  there  came  a  worm  of  shapeless  form, 

Appearance  mean,  contemptible  in  size — 

Fit  food  for  the  young  sparrow  in  its  nest — 

Which,  unobserved  and  plow,  its  work  began, 

Inserting  in  the  veins  of  the  proud  oak 

A  subtle  virus  of  a  deadly  kind, 

And  soon  it  withered,  drooped,  and  died  away; 


592  LINES   ON   LERISSA   HUGHES. 

Defying  long  the  storm,  died  by  a  worm. 

These  thoughts  came  to  my  mind  the  other  day, 

As  I  beheld  the  father  of  Lerissa. 

She  was  his  last,  the  darling  of  his  life; 

Her  presence  cheered  his  heart  and  smoothed  his  brow, 

The  center  figure  in  his  household  group; 

But  since  Lerissa  passed  from  earth  away, 

To  sing  among  the  saints  that  dwell  in  light, 

The  strong  man  who  had  braved  the  storm  of  life, 

And  never  quailed  in  presence  of  the  foe, 

Has  failed  at  last;  his  manly  head  is  bowed. 

To  him  the  birds  have  ceased  to  sing  their  songs; 

Each  lovely  flower  droops  on  its  parent  stem; 

The  light  of  day  passed  from  his  door  away, 

Because  Lerissa  left  his  earthly  home. 

Kind  father,  now  lift  up  your  drooping  head — 

Lerissa  dwells  within  your  Father's  house; 

You  see  her  not,  but  she  's  Lerissa  still ; 

You  '11  find  her  where  the  saints  and  angels  dwell. 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  C'f  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGLLES 


G82G8     Life  and 



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